It was a dark moment...i'd never seen the mass get so hobbled by so many cops.
Is this what I was negotiating with angry drivers for? Am I out on my bike for the opportunity to ride where we're told, go where we're allowed?
We were confused, angry, and a little bored. Way in back, we had no idea that folks were being
locked up. The tone of the evening changed...things seemed weirdly somber as we turned back up Halsted.
Then, the call came back--"right on Lake, right on Lake." I couldn't believe it, why were we heading back downtown? As I corked Lake, I realized there were many more of us left than I thought, the mass had come back together, smaller but feistier. We trucked down Lake street eastbound, and I realized what was different. We had reclaimed our self-determination. The only flashing blue lights around us now were the neon of the theatre district and the cameras of the tourists. I couldn't help myself, and as I sang the National Anthem as loud as I could the sound reflecting off of the El tracks above me made me feel like the city itself was singing along.
Then of course, we sang some Misfits songs, just for kicks.
North on Michigan Avenue...I almost forgot how illegal and scorned we were earlier in the evening as folks waved and laughed with us. Thats when I got the first sneaking suspicion that we were going to kick things up a notch. Lake Shore Drive was coming up fast, it was time for a decision. I must admit, the hill leading to the on ramp was pretty fun-I would've enjoyed it more if I hadn't been freaking out in my mind, "fuck, fuck fuck,-lsd? holy shit, fuck, fuck, fuck."
We massed at the merge lane, and then it was on...first one lane, then two, then three, honks cascading from the rear. In my periphery, I see driver's hands shaking at the wheel with consternation. People unloaded, spread their wings, pedaled hard and fast, soaking up the night air, the beautiful freedom. We halted...massed at the top of a hill and full force across the highway, I lifted my bike in salute. We knew it wouldn't last, and soon we were passed by another paddy wagon--cutting off the front. It was time to ditch, throw your bike over the barricade--off to the domesticated strip of lakefront trial and further nighttime madness...
I'll never forget those glorious few miles...and humbly thank the riders who spent the night in jail in protest. We love you and honor you. They wouldn't let us have a silly side street--so we took the Drive.