Monday, June 1, 2009
The People's Bike Library of Greater Portland:
It is with a proud voice that I announce my return from Portlandia.
I was blessed enough to witness the ribbon cutting ceremony for the People's Bike Library of Portland. It all started when I flew in on the 29th, turned on my phone and it was 11:12.
The sun was warmer than the Austin heat I came from. We gathered in the parking lot of the Red Light, in the shade, then spilling out into the median of nutsack island.
There were people dressed as a bat, tiger, bunny, bird, duck, gator, bear, kitty, yeti, rhino, etc.
I could tell a few people put some major effort to finish new bikes or top coat the newest facelifts. The Duck brought a boomin sound system, and dBuny jacked his into the matrix for ultimate bang. Triple tall bikes and shoe-brake brakes. New choppers, Minis with golden pegs, chicks with tallbikes, longboarders, lowriders. Stencil Station for free commemorations.
As we all congregated on the empty pile, RACC (Reagional Arts and Culture Commision) said some thanks, and Shantastic and Handsome Dave spoke on behalf of Zoobomb through Captain Fun's notorious megaphone. Mayor Sam Adams stepped up to the platform and spoke about the horror of some of the earlier proposals, his satisfaction with the final one, and and appreciation for the bicycle advocacy that zoobomb insgtigates. He made the correlation of the urge for more enviornmentally suitable solutions, the health benefits, and the pure fun of bicycles.
Then, at the urge of the crowd, we counted down from 10 as is the custom at the top of the hill prior to zoobombing. He snipped it and the jungle roared.
Handsome Dave asked me to pass him the first bike to be placed on the pyle.
I pushed through the crowd and handed it forth, bowing in honor of the golden b(eye)cycle winking in the sun.
As I retreated to the crowd, my whole body was shaking. My hands were in disbelief. I paced in a circle and half-sigh/half-laughed and this darn smile was holding me so tight, I felt like the kiln was burning it into my clay, smile-shaped cheeks forever.
Prior to my arrival, my whole mantra has been:
"Go shake the Mayor's hand in front of the Zoobomb Sculpture."
In that state of ecstatic release and akward urge to cry I rushed up to the mayor too early, while he was talking to someone. I started something then stopped as I saw, but he must have sensed my thick soup of exceeded expectations and turned quickly to shake my hand and return to the conversation. I even stolidly studdered something and turned away disapointed in my lack of patience and nija-like awareness. What a great lesson.
People walked around, checked out the vault, secured the chain, and put the helmets and lights into the cave and locked the door.
Sprockettes took over the street while furry animals danced in the crosswalk as a shield. The pink lights in the night sweated hot in the sun and performed three songs with their first performance of the season.
As the sun sliced angles from the roofs, we danced and chatted and stenciled a new begining.
by gabriel amadeus