100th Anniversary Bay to Breakers

We returned to the Bay Area in May 2011. Gauss and I were both signed up to run/walk the Bay to Breakers “foot race”—although it is more like a 12-K clothing-optional parade. This post describes our BART ride into the city with friends from the running club.

At 7:10 a.m. The cars are filling with costumed participants, already jolly and a little tipsy. A gangly young man in 1970s retro basketball shorts and a frizzy, multicolored clown wig like mine gives me the high five as we enter the train car. His pseudo-Afro is cinched in the middle with a green terrycloth sweat band to match his Celtics jersey.

I sit down with my group of friends: Suzanne in a fuchsia feather boa; Gauss in his Minnesota moose-antler hat; and Sean and Jeff, serious runners in nondescript wicking tees. I watch at the next stop as the car takes on a cow and a milkmaid; a kitty-cat with pointed ears and leopard-print tail; Superman and Wonder Woman. Several of the characters discreetly sip spirits from bottles encased in brown paper bags. Laughter fills the background as I catch up with our friends after a year away from them.

At the Civic Center stop, two San Francisco police officers board the car. They're the real thing—Bay to Breakers runners dressed as cops would wear the same blue shirt, carry the billy club and handcuffs, but would replace the regulation trousers with Speedos or buttless chaps. The officers walk up and down the aisle, smiling and chatting amiably.

“Sorry, no drinking on the train,” the male officer says to the Devil, grinning. “Hand it over.”

The Devil shrugs his shoulder and gives up his booze.

“I'm going to have to take that from you,” the policewoman says, stretching her arm toward a man in a gossamer tutu, crooking two fingers.

“Can't blame me for trying,” Tinkerbell replies, a lilt in his voice. He's not angry and hands her the bagged beer can.

The train stops at a station and officers take the alcohol to the open door, pouring it out onto the tracks. The policeman hands the empty containers back to their owners, and as the two officers start out the door, he smiles as he calls back, “Have a good day. And be sure to recycle!”



Comments

Popular posts from this blog

When in Rome...

Italy, On My Own This Time

A Crappy, Crappy Day