And indeed it was—or became, anyway—one of those chimerical eves where fantasy and reality collide happily and even though at least half of the assembled showed up as pseudo-hipster bike dorks there were still enough fright wigs and fancy hats to make for the sort of annual Halloween-themed shenanigans that this fellow in a dress, anyway, has come to look forward to at October’s end out on two wheels.
Pooh Bear and Ronald McFondle were nowhere to be seen, but the latter’s alter-ego, Bob the Cat-Tree Builder, easily held the fort, as evidenced by his money quote: “Ya wanna get hammered or nailed?” a question that neither college co-eds at Dick’s Drive-In nor flamboyant crooners at Changes Bar dared answer.
On some rides, the miles melt away like butter, on others, you barely break a sweat even in a polyester frock; but sometimes those are the ones on which you cackle with glee all night long, crossing streets by foot to crowd into a place made famous for 21st birthdays but which, it turns out, welcomes pretty much anyone anytime and where the single drinks are doubles and where—despite the fact that most others of those taking the microphone could actually sing—the Karaoke-J still took a moment to thank our gang of loudmouths and Blues Brothers for showing up to play.
It’s been a long time since I’ve made it to the nub of the evening, where bedraggled revelers scoff at local ordinances and build pyres from palettes but this chance was too good to pass up; and although I wasn’t there to see the flames die, I did see them rise as the Dark Knight lay down for a nap.
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