In the past year we traveled vast distances across varied physical and mental landscapes. But therewas little to prepare us for our Portland reunion. The Clinton St Theater seats 250 but lines were out the door as the happy-go-fucky perverts filtered in and out of our spacious venue, many complaining that there was no room. Sometimes the streets are full, and sometimes you have to squeeze in to make space for yourself, but when a red bus load of crusty Los Angeles bike punks rolls up demanding bicycle erotica what are we to do?
By the time it was over many on the streets stood in a state of disbelief, their mouths (and/or other orifices) left agape with all the shock and awe of what they had beered witness to.
Suddenly someone yelled, “Flash Mob Naked Bike Ride!!!!!” There was a quick exchange about who would carry clothes and suddenly people started stripping down to their undies, or less.
But really it is the casual approach to sex with the business approach to clothes that makes it work. Hellyea you are looking good! (or so you might say)