Fremont Solstice Parade
Mimi and I rode the tandem through Montlake and down by the UW on the Burke-Gilman trail to catch the Fremont Solstice Parade, the annual hippie-dippy celebration of the year’s longest day and our town’s most exposed flesh. We saw your usual collection of naked people on bicycles, glittered-up youngsters on homemade parade floats, and sunburned toothless street people wandering about aimlessly among the crowd.
In other words, it was a reasonably good time and at least we got a bike ride of out it although it never occurred to either of us that that experience would be enhanced by taking off our clothes and covering our bodies from head to toe with fluorescent body-paint.
I’m glad that there are folks who enjoy doing so; Mimi and I were both favorably impressed with cyclists whose paintworks most resembled cycling or circus outfits. One group featured half a dozen riders who had fashioned “Where’s Waldo” leggings and tops out of greasepaint quite effectively; on the other hand, we both cringed to see the shriveled up penises of old men who hadn’t even painted themselves at all.
And that very few of the nudes put coverings on their saddles was also cause for some concern, but so be it: anything that gets people out on two wheels is fine by me.
Some of the floats and costumes in the parade-proper were impressive, too, notably a group who were dressed like the scary apple trees in the Wizard of Oz, with articulated branches and everything. We also liked a troupe of Cleopatras who belly-danced down the avenue to a driving Casbah beat.
Still, in the end, I felt like I do every year: going to the fair is one of those things I expect to enjoy more than I do and inevitably, I end up wondering why I bothered anyway.
Jen declined to join us, saying she wanted to have gone but not enough to actually go. Me, too, neither.
In other words, it was a reasonably good time and at least we got a bike ride of out it although it never occurred to either of us that that experience would be enhanced by taking off our clothes and covering our bodies from head to toe with fluorescent body-paint.
I’m glad that there are folks who enjoy doing so; Mimi and I were both favorably impressed with cyclists whose paintworks most resembled cycling or circus outfits. One group featured half a dozen riders who had fashioned “Where’s Waldo” leggings and tops out of greasepaint quite effectively; on the other hand, we both cringed to see the shriveled up penises of old men who hadn’t even painted themselves at all.
And that very few of the nudes put coverings on their saddles was also cause for some concern, but so be it: anything that gets people out on two wheels is fine by me.
Some of the floats and costumes in the parade-proper were impressive, too, notably a group who were dressed like the scary apple trees in the Wizard of Oz, with articulated branches and everything. We also liked a troupe of Cleopatras who belly-danced down the avenue to a driving Casbah beat.
Still, in the end, I felt like I do every year: going to the fair is one of those things I expect to enjoy more than I do and inevitably, I end up wondering why I bothered anyway.
Jen declined to join us, saying she wanted to have gone but not enough to actually go. Me, too, neither.
posted by Professor Dave at 4:50 PM
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