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Welcome to the Gelatin Olympics. Now in its 13th year, the Olympics is organized by the American Heritage Federal Credit Union to benefit the Kids-N-Hope Foundation. Each year, the gelatin is made by employees of American Heritage, who use boat paddles to mix up the 80 cases.

The main event is the slide, which stands about 10 feet high. At the end, a rectangular pool a little smaller than a queen-size bed full of dark red gelatin awaits eager victims. It looked like Snack Packs gone wild, or the Blob, if its sole purpose was to be inert and gooey instead of to attack helpless small towners. For hilarity's sake, participants were encouraged to wear their wackiest outfits. I went with my army-green pilot jumpsuit, complete with matching goggles, mainly because I get funny looks when I wear them around the office. Little girls with tiny bellies hanging out of bikinis and adults wearing elaborate costumes (including a banana and his Carmen Miranda compatriot who, together, raised over $7,000) were introduced one by one as they got their opportunities to take the plunge. After the gelatin bath, sliders were hosed down by grinning staff members who took comfort in the fact that they would never have to be in our position.

So what exactly does sliding into 700 gallons of gelatin feel like? Like slowly sinking into the most delicious quicksand ever. Extremely cold quicksand. Despite my protective pilot gear, the gelatin slithered into my jumpsuit legs and I could feel it slide down my calves as I picked myself out of the gelatin pit. The bulk of the gelatin slid off easily, but other globs held onto my suit for dear life, as if escaping with me would save them from certain doom. They never saw the hoses coming.

Other events included the gelatin-less water balloon toss, where I watched a father lose it for his overly excited daughter by dropping a balloon in the finals, an event bound to be brought up at family reunions for years to come. The toss was followed by a gelatin-eating contest. I decided not to enter, even though I had no qualms about schooling a bunch of preadolescents in the ways of eating a pie plate full of gelatin. But this is for the kids, right? A mother started yelling at her chubby son, "Suck it up, Mark! You're a winner!" I, too, had my money on the fat kid, but he lost out to Catherine Weingard, a 14-year-old who just graduated eighth grade from Benjamin Rush Middle School. After her star turn, she casually sucked on a purple ring pop. Her demeanor gave the air that quickly downing a plate full of gelatin was not on her list of things to do before she dies. It's just something she did.