Riding along on your bicycle naked or mostly naked, costumed or not is a lark. Sitting on your bike waiting for the crowd of butt crack resting on bicycle seat ahead of you to inch forward one spoke turn at a time with nothing on you but leering eyeballs is awkward. You have to make conversation. You have to acknowledge the onlookers. You have to hear what they’re saying about you and your fellow rebellious buddies.
I’m not sure what exactly the hold up was. Some waiting is expected when there’s a gap in riders and the police blocking side traffic let a few cars go through but this was ridiculous. I think the planners just had no idea how many riders there would be this year. They’re trying to make Portland’s the biggest Naked Bike Ride in the world. Problem is the onlookers. In the past it seemed rather lucky to happen to be out on the night naked people ride by on bikes. Now it seems people are planning to be there and watch but the police are not numerous enough to run a naked parade. The bars must have been empty ‘cause everyone was out watching us and rather than stay on the sidewalks they were out in the street leaving those of us naked on bikes a very narrow space to navigate. So there we were with our bikes between our legs slowly inching along through mobs of drunk people.
The majority of the people on the sidelines had great attitudes. Many shed their clothing on the spot and a few joined us mid route, their bare feet slapping along on the pavement along side us. Only a few were genuinely out of line. Passing through the “gay area” I ended up parked next to a gentleman who asked where the nice looking dicks were and I had to break the bad news about temperatures. He grinned and said I was his favorite. Somewhere along the way one of Portland’s bicycle rickshaws joined us with a naked driver and a naked man standing in the cab performing for onlookers and taking pictures when he wasn’t holding the camera in front of his dick.
The nice gentleman just ahead and to the right of me was told he was “cute” - not a good thing when naked I think. I assured the onlooker that he’s undoubtedly a grower not a shower and remarked on the cold temperature. I think he was grateful. A woman lunged out in front of Deon and asked her to smile for a picture saying, “You’re doing it right, girl!” Deon obliged with her camera smile. A pair of rowdy boys informed Deon and I that we were the best looking girls there, and that that was no small thing. I accidentally made eye contact with a guy staring at me intently and he shouted “You! You’re the one! I love you!” making as though he might come and get me. I took a sudden interest in the stuffed gorilla strapped to the back of the naked man directly in front of me.
We started to get cold. Lots of people gave up and parked their bicycles on the sidewalks and began to get dressed. Some sequined socialites cut us off by crossing in front of us when we were actually starting to move and one of them excused herself saying “sorry we really need to get through here” all snotty the world is mine tone and I said “right. ‘cause you’re naked.” Cold Dew is cranky Dew. Ms. Hot Stuff turned back, her angry face creasing her heavy make up. I gave her a hard stare and watched her eyes start at my sneakers, slide up my bare legs, over my black boy short underpants, on up over my belly and skirting nervously over the place my hair rested over each nipple and back to my smirk. She decided to move along. And good thing! Half naked throw downs get ugly fast, friends! Besides I know what she saw when she looked at me. She saw that clearly the world is mine.
June 14, 2009
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