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August 27, 2005
Critical (m)ass
Ow!Ow ow! The potholes on Chicago streets are serious and they will smite you! "Reclaim the streets? Ha!" they smirk. Or rather, they yawn! Egads! Some of those monsters could swallow a 102 pound Pippy whole, bike, helmet, knitting needles, and all, you better believe it! Chicago roads are no place for the meek, or the faint of heart or butt! You need a comfy saddle and buns of steel, dear readers. Thus, my butt is somewhat bruised today. But its a small price to pay for the joy of riding with the thundering herd of bicyclists of all shapes and configurations (humans and vehicles! And at least 2 happy little dawgs in baskets on handlebars!How I wished Marcel could ride with me!) in a joyous, noisy, slightly out-of-hand (but that's the beauty part, isn't it?) raucous, undulating, coasting, bouncing, howling pedal-driven parade of wonderfulness!
The beginning of the ride dragged a little, it seemed to take some time to get everyone moving and then there was a small matter of a Marshall Field's delivery truck strategically placed to block the entirety of (I think) Washington Street, going west. Oh! It reeked of conspiracy! Cars were trapped, bikes were not! Eventually the whole of the ride squeezed through the bottleneck and were moving again, west, then south.
Some highlights of the ride include the entire families smiling, waving, and calling out their support (sometimes repeating back to us our collective wishes to all we encountered of "happy Friday!") from their porches, front lawns, windows, and cars as we snaked through the neighborhood in Pilsen. People shopping and working in the colorful storefronts and supermercados along Halsted St. came out to watch and many also smiled and waved. As we passed a park a Mexican man with a huge smile applauded wildly, making victory gestures in the air and shouting "USA is number one!" His enthusism was wonderful to see, no matter how one feels about the sentiment.
Among our numbers also were at least 2 mobile djs, and some spectators danced along the sides of the streets.
As darkness fell we rode on and on through industrial areas, across several bridges, over railroad tracks (sometimes losing small groups to the inevitable flat tires) everyone howling collectively under highway overpasses and viaducts. The circuitous route had me disoriented and a little nervous, but at the same time exhilerated from the speed, noise, and new surroundings. When we headed west on a rather deserted seeming stretch of road, abandoned looking railroad tracks appeared on the right side, and a wall. I pointed out the spooky tracks to my riding companion, (Dave of the 6-person Polyamorous Pride Ride, we were unfortunately on seperate bikes this time). Then suddenly a row of imposing, identical buildings, that looked like a prison, and having no idea what street we were on, I pointed out it looked like a prison. That's because it was. We were at 26th and California, circling the jail. As we came around to the front, we passed the imposing courthouse, then areas of fence, with security guards unsure what to make of us blaring past, waving and wishing them happy Friday. High up in small, backlit, barred windows of the rectangular jail buildings we began to notice silouhettes waving at us, looking small and sad. I waved and waved with all my might and yelled up cheerful words to them. We saw also families waiting outside the fences, holding bundles, clutching children's hands. None too cheerful, but nonetheless curious, they watched us too, and we waved and pedaled.
Soon we were swooping along a curving road, taking up one side while semi trucks came towards us, slowing and giving us room, we yelled and gestured for them to honk and they blared their horns. In a darkened area of road we swooped around a sloping curve and down, howled through a short overpass and then went up, up, and over a bridge, some standing on the tall median and raising their bikes over their heads. A young man in a polka-dotted clown costume did what is apparently a Chicago Critical Mass ritual and thus the clown costume came off to reveal oh, yes, he was a rodeo clown, apparently, going completely cowboy under his oversized pants! Approval was immediate,loud and emphatic. Believe it!
Oh, the ride went on and on!
On Archer Ave, my back tire was swallowed whole by a water-filled pothole, splattering my feet with lord knows what grossness (tried not to think about it too much) and eliciting a smallish squeal. The tire bounced out again, not before my life flashed before my eyes, (for a moment I saw myself tumbling through blackness, bicycle, messenger bag, and helmet flying around me as I whirled to the other end of the tunnel, China) and I carried on, only slightly grossed out by some dampness in my sandals.
Flash forward~ the ride went on and on through Chinatown (may or may not have been before the prison, I was completely disoriented most of the ride) where I heard some people drop off for bubble tea.
We climbed an incline through industrial buildings, clamored over a metal bridge with a view of the skyline from the south.
Turning north again, I found we were on South Michigan Ave, more familiar terrain, and passing Columbia College and then on into tourist territory again. As we sped past the parks and the Art Institute throngs of tourists waved, cheered, and danced. The pavement became smooth and I felt a second wind, gliding across the newly resurfaced surface, oh yes, the fresh asphalt felt like riding on smoked glass, it was bliss! We turned east at Monroe, bouncing over the bridge, again passing throngs of tourists staring, some unsure if we were up to something unsavory, some smiling and again voicing support.
It never occurred to me that going onto Lake Shore Drive maybe wasn't going to be such a great idea. Oh but man it was fun! Some blocked traffic at Monroe as the herd of us turned collectively, furiously pedaling down the middle of the outside 3 lanes, a few unfortunate drivers were still surrounded in the middle lane, looking fairly confused, and driving very carefully. The twinkling skyline formed our glorious backdrop as we sped over the river, past Navy Pier and the ferris wheel, around the curve and swooped and flew down the long incline before Grand Ave. We had a slow-moving police escort the whole way who seemed not to be minding our presence, or so I thought. For some reason I am a little naive about these things. At some point the ride abruptly stopped at the end of the breathless incline, sirens blared and blue lights flashed as more police cars came from behind us. Up ahead I could see one squad car at an angle across the line of riders. Everyone began to climb and pass bicycles over the low concrete wall between the road and the lake shore bike path. At that point I had lost sight of Dave and was unsure if my arms were strong enough to hoist my bike over the barrier. As I was looking ahead for Dave I watched as two (white) cops grabbed a black man from the crowd,
shoved him into the concrete barrier, and threw his bicycle over the wall. I was one of the last riders still standing on the side of the road, and I started to yell and point at what the policemen were doing. They walked towards me as Dave lifted my bike over the wall. I yelled at them that I saw what they had done, that it was unneccessary, and that if they wanted they could grab me too, but they should know I weigh 102 pounds. Ok, it kind of came out funny. But I wasn't sure what their plan was and I was totally terrified. In any event, they just told me we were breaking the law. Oh yes. Breaking the law. Serious business.
Anyway, the ride broke up, then and there.
Dave and I sat at the beach for a while, listening to the waves, watching the cars and the pulsing lights of the skyline, and the ferris wheel.
Posted by at August 27, 2005 11:13 AM
Comments
I like life in my four stoplight town, but hearing about critical mass rides makes me wished I lived in the city again. Why is it that the thing I miss most about the city involves trying to shut it down?
Good to see you are over the 100 lbs mark. Go eat some cheese for me, please.
Posted by: rob helpychalk at August 28, 2005 10:13 AM
Breakin' the law! Breakin' the law!
I can see the ride in my head. I'll have to see if Austin has having a CM anytime soon...
Posted by: David at August 28, 2005 06:35 PM
we missed you on friday but sounds like you went on a long crazy ride! let's make plans
Posted by: carolyn at August 31, 2005 08:41 AM
You forgot to mention some details.
There were eye witness reports that that black fellow tried to rush past a police blockade, and in trying to head him off, a cop hit the wall with his car.
While you were sitting there, I rode north, and witnessed a cop sitting at every padlocked, middle of nowhere, gate entering on LSD from the lake shore parks, even a cop driving down the path. Paddy wagons, I saw three, white shirted supervior cops, and doing basically nothing but trying to head people off from re-entering LSD in any way. I got some watermelon at the North avenue pedestrian crossing and headed home across that.
C-ya
Posted by: whi5p at September 9, 2005 10:10 AM