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If you were underwhelmed by the march, you should have seen our Critical Mass.  Our arrival at CM was greeted with little fanfare. Many folks in the Park Blocks had spent the last couple hours, like us, dredging down the sidewalk murmuring chants of dissent. Food Not Bombs was there to provide much needed nutrition. Chewing my kale like cud in order to wash down the bean and noodle concoction (LOL, FNB), I surveyed the park. More people were arriving, but no one knew what was going on. I joined my cyclivist friends on the grass. We all concurred that this demonstration was just as mopey as the last one. So, we mused, what the hell are we going to do about it? Strategize.
In the interests of CM's continuing success, I will not disclose all the details of our strategy. Suffice to say, we avoided the initial police escort that traditionally harasses CM. We proceeded to overtake most major roads on the east side, growing from 50 to 70 bikes strong, picking up curious cyclists all the way. We were even joined by a couple of skateboarders. We cruised by a pack of motorcycle cops that were inside a Wendy's choking down post-protester-pounding bacon double cheeseburgers (Biggie Sized, I'm sure.) Had my view been better, I'm certain there would be cola visibly spewing from all their snouts as they saw us pedal by, chanting with enthusiasm and ringing our bike bells. Finally, after nearly 2 hours of harassment free riding, the fuzz caught up with us.
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