THE SQUIRT RIDE SNAFU - last squirt of the Century

A tale of good cheer and grand adventure, and of loving kindness from Berkeley's finest

(see below for what you can do)

Last Friday's squirt ride was a blast. In the midst of Bike Summer, with visitors from around the globe participating, a nice hefty crowd of close to 100 cyclists gathered for hot weather fun in the sun. The same number of water pistols again (100), each inscribed "Berkeley Critical Mass", were quickly seized upon by many behelmeted devilish ones and soon an early sprinkle was enjoyed by all(most) all. As the rowdy roadsters reveled, they discovered that two jiggly-jouncin' big-ol' boxes of water balloons borne by THE COUCH, were freely available. Decorated with images of bicycles, smiley faces, BIG EXCLAMATION MARKS and words such as "SQUIRT!" and "YAY!" a hail of balloons arced overhead and splattered the pavement every which way sending pigeons aflutter and cyclists ascutter as water-wilding wetties chased one another through the maze of bikes and benches, leaping o'er flower beds and under cover of phone booths and trash cans, gleefully giggling and screaming all the while. The whole scene was so entrancing to this reporter that he hoped the throng would never leave and that the water balloons would never wane! Indeed, this One Happy Camper took his fold-out futon mini-couch to the center of the main drag, Shattuck Avenue, for a bit of a recliner with a snails-eye-view of swirling cabbie bumpers and motor wheels. Detournement Detour sil-voo-plex.

Around the central plaza flag pole, the bevy of bikers gazed in awe and wonder at the radiant central commemoration of squirtaciousness before the art gallery of squirt posters affixed in a solid cylindrical carpet there. Art mimics life! Life is art! Happy faces galore - gallons and gallons of buckets of buckets of fun! The riders were in no mood to dally though, and it took a hail of Clif Bars to hold them back (a nation of Clif Bars?) just long enough for a couch rider to be secured. One lad from out of town, just visiting for a bit not even knowing what a critical mass was got caught up in the fun of it all and decided to give it a wide'n wild-eyed go - filling up pistols as he rolled in amazement on a bike-born plushyboat (see his statement below).

After this brief delay, the MASStaz ov da whiiil, antsy ta take to da striiits, den did exackly dat. Speediest ride in a long time! Out the gate with a bang! ..errr.. squirt! New riders joined from all sides as we rolled rapidly onwards. We swelled and it WAS swell. Good cheer was shared by all. One young lassie, her orange hair afire in the summer sun, proudly held her personal artistic creation high aloft at each major intersection: a large sign reading on one side, "HONK IF YOU LOVE BIKES!" and on the other, "THANKS FOR WAITING!" This delightful offering was well received by our motoring friends, who waved and cheered, rolled down windows and hurra'd, honked gaily and with fervor, and were generally quite happy to witness liberation on jubilant parade.

Telegraph rocked on its laurels in the tempest of angels borne on two wheels, wings aflutter. "Bikes! Bikes! RA RA RA!" came the call. Briefly, at the corner of Bancroft and Telegraph, the pollution of our four-wheeled friends (who musta et dino-beanz fer dinna las' naht) was a bit overwhelming for some, who crumpled coughing to the tarmac and lay heaving and gasping for breath. Fortunately the presence of large numbers of bicycles acted as a buffer and a strong wind off the Bay soon revived them and it was off to downtown, University Avenue.

Reaching the intersection of Martin Luther King, Jr. Way (an egregious misnomer, for MLK was all about peace and justice not heavy deadly high-speed arterial traffic, if I may say so), the riders commemorated the shared struggle for equal access and democracy of KPFA, by flocculating gloriously at street-center. Flocculation is a term invented in Berkeley and indeed the ride was originally dubbed, the "Super Flocculus" after a dictionary definition of flocculus ("n. an aggregated MASS of loosely associated tufts, as in cotton"). Flocculation has come to mean the perpetual U-turn, the whirling dervish of bike-ins, the amazing spiraling carousel of glittering late-evening-sunlight spinning mesmerizing delight

As the tornado of two-wheels grew larger and larger, the potential for live traffic circle/traffic calming devices became readily apparent... Our motoring brethren were quite patient and more than a bit bedazzled by the display, which then in good time promptly moved onward west ("Go west young wheels!") towards the Bay.

Eventually, the glittering hump of the only viable route to the Berkeley Marina came into focus. BACKGROUND: This route has long been declared off-limits to bicyclists and pedestrians by the City of Berkeley, for as yet unstated reasons. This prohibition however has resulted in tremendous activism locally, our own mini "Bike the Bridge" movement resulting in millions of dollars being secured for a second bridge to the south. Unfortunately, activism has primarily focused around creating this new bridge rather than granting immediate access to the existing. Once per year the I-80 overpass is shut down and is flooded by a thousands-strong PEDESTRIAN MASS on July 4^th. Other than that it serves as a post-apoCARlytic miasma of freeway on and off-ramps. So our most beautiful modes of travel are denied direct access to one of our most beautiful refuges, the park over the Bay. Although this prohibition is a major discouragement from travel to our marina area, nevertheless, experienced cyclists regularly flout the prohibition, sometimes being ticketed by the highway gestapo. Just a month previous, at SQUIRT RIDE #3, riders had approached the Marina via University only to learn that large numbers of Berkeley Police Officers still lurk about wherever bicycles may travel in packs on the second Friday of each month, for they had streamed from the sidewalks to hold weapons high and denounce and deny the passage of their two-wheeled friends. This has been the consistent treatment for 6.5 years. Such roadblocks have also been seen in the past at the Ashby underpass, although that underpass does not prohibit bicycles. Curiously enough, no such roadblocks have been erected at the Gilman underpass, the only route via which the mass has been able to visit the marina. All three sport freeway on- and off-ramps.

But on this glorious day, August 13^th, 1999, after such a wonderful officer-less ride, there were NO police officers in sight, NO ROAD BLOCK to be seen, and riders became excited that they might finally partake of the grand view aloft from this pesky platform otherwise prohibited, and sail on to the marina, where the pier beckoned with the promise of long, delicious sunsets, good company, and squirty huzzaz.

This reporter was incredulous at the lack of police presence, knowing that like clockwork, the Berkeley Police had refused velopassage for years. Indeed, the last time the cyclists had ridden the overpass (July 9, 1993) it was after taking the I-80 unFreeway in protest of its illegal and terrible lane-widening (in violation of two environmental laws), the sprawl and pollution induced by freeways, and the general lack of more sensible and equitable bicycle freeways. On that date, on this same overpass, there had been an also illegal mass-arrest of approximately 75 cyclists and one skateboarder, and the illegal confiscation of their two-wheeled steeds without property receipt (many of the nicest bikes disappeared in custody). Since that time cyclists have REPEATEDLY MADE IT CLEAR that unFreeway riding is better left to protests, not to the monthly mass ride which benefits so from being inclusive and free. A harbinger of what was to come. But who could have stopped the gleeful stream of cycles? This reporter was too far back (interviewing a charming young woman who came all the way from New York City to squirt with impunity) to have attempted to sway the riders from their course-and besides, we've been allowed by police to ride through the Solano Tunnel where bikes are also unconscionably prohibited-we were recently GIVEN AN AWARD by the City Council for encouraging alternative transportation-and the lack of police seemed to be a sign that we were finally trusted to have a good-will ride on our own. And furthermore, and who could see any such prohibitory sign through the sea of bicycles that day? Many riders had no idea that there was an issue and even this reporter, awash in the glow of such good energy flowing from such wonderful folk, had no idea what police overkill was to come. Was it a set-up?

Mounting the span, the cyclists gained speed and agitation as the thrill of BIKING THE BRIDGE swelled true within their bosoms, the riders rejoiced at their moment of liberation. Just as they were descending to land and nearly to the marina side-exactly where they would have emerged from the foul and baneful, glass-strewn, feces-infested, train-track obstacled, freeway offramp-endangering, abrupt curb-enforced stop sign collisioning, shanty-town pollution land which they are normally relegated to (the 'bike route') via which no GLORIOUS COUCH can be rolled, nor WHEELCHAIRS nor those without the ability to haul their bikes up long flights of stairs-the riders were besieged by a screaming Berkeley Police Car, speeding recklessly in the WRONG DIRECTION directly towards the bicycle traffic. This officer leapt from his car with weapon drawn and demanded that two of the hundred-strong bicycle brigade stop, after blocking the road with his vehicle on a jagged angle across lanes.

Soon there were numerous officers from every direction, shutting down the entire bridge for the next hour, apparently to illustrate to motorists how difficult it is for bicyclists to navigate these days... In their shining moment of equity and fairness, police required motorists to act as bicycles. Motorists were then required to walk their four-wheeled vehicles on the sidewalk across two freeway offramps, down two flights of stairs, across another offramp, around a winding path strewn with urine, motor oil and glass, then pick their motor car up and carry it over numerous train tracks, and through the pilons, past the bus stop and onto a little out-of-the-way street strewn with tire-popping debris, before mounting their petrol-carts again and combusting along their merry little tailpipe-poppin' way.

In an effort to show their two-wheeled friends (we the harbingers of freedom, sustainability and true democracy, the cyclists on our too-long prohibited overpass) what SPECIAL GUESTS they were, anyone who seemed like a leader in any respect (whether by Asserting Her Rights, or by Smiling and Explaining the Situation, or by Looking Authoritative from the sidewalk, or by Holding a Video Camera, or by Hauling the Couch, or by Being Known Generally As The Leader of Critical Mass) was promptly taken as a SPECIAL GUEST and given honorary jewelry to wear around the wrists. This jewelry was very precious to late 20^th Century man and was used abundantly on fellow citizens at the slightest provocation. Any hint of having spirit or creativity, or care for another, was rewarded in that curious, long-extinct society by the gifting of these special silvery "cuffs".

The special guests were then lead to a large Special Guest Van, also known as the "Black Milktruck of Death" (BMOD), the drunken-driven Ebony steel box which, with glittering lights and fumes asunder, has many times followed the two-wheeled liberators throughout the town, sometimes burping with resounding volume, sometimes weaving across three lanes in an attempt to keep the happy two-wheelers from reuniting with their four-wheeled friends. Today like Jaba in his hut the BMOD oozed green antifreeze bile fluid in buckets, which collected in small ponds strewn across the roadway, apparently too excited by the squirtacious nature of the day and unable to control its gonorrhea-like, toxic ejaculate, caustic green oozing ponds entreating now extinct Bay shore frogs to leap from lillypad to lillypad on the liberated space above ten ever-growing lanes of car-only I-80...

Some of the SPECIAL GUESTS were welcomed with such enthusiasm that they were literally swept off their feet, such was the hospitality and eagerness to please of the Berkeley Police. One was even left in a loving puddle of motor oil, another was literally dragged tens of feet across the street on her behind. One was lifted into the van with his arms dangerously above his head in a clumsy attempt of the officers to keep him close to their precious God of the Greenhouse.

From deep within the BMOD, this reporter was able to unbuckle himself crawl over bodies to the dirty besplattered metal-meshed windows and count 23 police officers in all, 13 police cars, and multiple motorcycles and mounted patrol bicycles. The Clog the Highway Petrol (CHP) were also present, clearly gloating over the traffic congestion they were engineering. As the overpass was blocked at each end and my view was rather truncated, there were doubtless even more officers receiving, one must presume, double extra $$$pecial riot control overtime.

All eight of these SPECIAL GUESTS, save one woman who was released and no arrest filed, were taken to enjoy the pinnacle accomplishment of Berkeley's upper eschelons: a narrow-halled maze of green and orange, layered dimly lit under locking doors upon locking doors, into which they were lead to be fed the finest food which Berkeley's high society has devised: glossy-crusted bread and oily-afloat kool-aid in a paper cup. Note the special touch of paper, as styrofoam is illegal in Berkeley.

These SPECIAL GUESTS were then examined by the most highly trained scientists and doctors of the great society, Berkeley California. The curious markings on their fingertips were recorded for future artists to ponder, and their visages were captured such that future generations of wondering young minds could know what SPECIAL GUESTS had come to bring the two-wheeled goodness to Berkeley.

These seven were also examined by medics because several had suffered injuries. Especially one young man who was crying and buckled over in pain with shoulder trauma, who was taken to the emergency room. Apparently the "loving touch of kindness and hospitality" can be a little bit over-eager.

Officers were so pleased that they could be useful however that they didn't really notice, so great was their joy at being amongst such special guests. Like wagging dogs they panted, tongues hanging out, waiting for the next USEFUL DEED they might perform for their fa$$$cist creed.

Within twenty-four hours all those inCARcerated had been released, with various charges such as "Resisting Arrest" being invented and court dates for Monday August 16^th at 2 PM, Dept. 201. These special charges are Berkeley's way of continuing to learn from and cherish the presence of visionary SPECIAL GUESTS, much as the three kings who came upon Jesus were so adored by future generations.

Think if Jesus came to today's corporatist-police-state-controlled Berkeley, oh the abusive treatment he would receive.

All roads lead to Rome,

Jason Meggs (I'll take the bike path, thanks)

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AFTERTHOUGHTS - WHAT'S NEXT?

Mayor Dean and City Council
2180 Milvia St.
Berkeley, CA 94704

FAX: (510) 644-8801

---> In the wake of the "last squirt of the century" you might mention that while bicycles *are* Y2K-compliant vehicles, our police, schools, courts and automobile-only infrastructure is not. Time to upgrade and reprogram before a crisis sends even more tens of thousands of new cyclists hitting the streets.

In the future, if you receive a harassment citation on a bike (all too common in Berkeley) and want help with fighting it, call the Bicycle Civil Liberties Union at (510) 273-9288. For instance, the very next morning I received a false citation for "wearing headphones". I was wearing ear protectors which are legal, to protect myself from the permanent incremental hearing damage which cannot be corrected by a hearing aid, which motor traffic inflicts on people. We need to address this anti-bike institution from the top down with better training and a commitment to encouraging rather than discouraging nonmotorized travel.

EQUITY AND RELIEF IN BERKELEY!