get up on your soapbox

and DANCE! Wait, no, ride!

This weekend is the real San Franciscan Soap Box Derby.

And, not implying anything regarding the safety of this event, it's also Dia de los Muertos, or Day of the Dead.

Last weekend was the Red Bull Soap Box Derby 2008 (which I'll get to in a moment), and understandably the Bernal Heights Soap Box Derby people were a little peeved at this usurpation, but the Bernal Heights race has always been a community/San Franciscan thing with well considered craft.


The Red Bull event was almost strictly bridge and tunnel, and the racers were a lot of papier mache. And Lord help Bernal Heights if they get the same crowd though-- an unbelievable 75,000 showed up in Dolores Park last weekend.

I hadn't seen Eli and Rosana in ages and called a couple weeks back to check in. We made time on the calendar to go to the new Academy of Sciences on Saturday morning, as that would be cool for the adults and also very kid friendly-- Eli and Rosana have two kids under five.

Eli and Rosana live at the uphill corner of Dolores Park, so when I told then that the Red Bull Soap Box Derby was going on outside their doorstep on Saturday, we changed our plans. We had no idea it was going to be such a clusterfuck.

First of all, quick MUNI rant. The Nike Women's marathon pre-events were in Golden Gate Park, the Red Bull Soap Box Derby in Dolores Park, and all ads warned of no parking and urged participants to take public transportation. The City and MUNI were in on the deal-- they new what was happening, and the system was woefully inadequate. They were actually running fewer cars and in longer intervals. It took me almost two hours just to get halfway across town (I should have walked by my ankle was screaming). I eventually took a cab, with a driver who could or would not speak English, and refused repeatedly to pay attention when I tried to tell him that Dolores was going to be blocked off and we needed to go around. After he stubbornly pointed and yelled "Dolores! Dolores!" for several blocks, he got a clue when we found ourselves knee-deep in the masses an unable to move. Maddening.

For a City with a "transit first" policy which punishes cars, parking, and even cabs, and which coddles the MUNI unions, the transit infrastructure of SF is continually piss poor.

End rant.

Eli, with both kids attached, and I managed to make it out just as the races were starting.

And that's Vince on the right, Eli's general handyman and all around great guy.

It was insane. The organizers thought there might be 50,000 people out there and had set up several rows of porta potties and three jumbotron screens.

The final estimate of the crowd was over 75,000. The majority took BART over, and you could tell. (I am an SF snob. I am aware of this. The steady river of pedestrians from the BART station was surreal.)

Eli's corner was at the midpoint of the race, at the jump.



We would have a pretty decent view, but for the throngs. Looking around at some of Eli's neighbors, he copied their idea and dashed back into the garage and returned with a couple of ladders. That was genius.

Unfortunately, little Allejandro got sick so Eli took him home to bed. I stayed for a while and watched the races, and met up with some other friends who had walked over.

Some of the best cars:

The TransAmerica Pyramid (after the crash):

Barry Bond's ball number whatever-- the one donated to the Hall of Fame with an asterisk:

and the Death Star.

AKA Team Fully Operational.

Here are my pics and clips of the day.



Red Bull had rented out the 1015 Club for a private after party Saturday night, and I won tickets to it by being caller number 8 to Energy 92.7 when I was home sick from the flu shot earlier in the week. Kevin, who used go there as a teen when he and his "girlfriend" would come into the Big City to dance, joined me for the adventure.

It did not disappoint.

Kevin and I, both independently dressed in western wear, took to the red carpet.


Some of the smaller bars in the complex were open to the public (i.e. B&T asian crowd), but the majority was secured for the private party, and turned out to be a lot of fun.

There was definitely a soap theme going on.

Those are detergent displays above the bar.

And the go go dancers who weren't on skates, were dancing on: soap boxes.

Pretty clever for a corporate gig. I was temped to get up on my soapbox and rant about something, but I didn't have a topic (Prop 8 anyone?) Kevin and I were also happy we cabbed it as there was lots of free booze. Unfortunately, a lot of it was Red Bull-based.

But tasty. Well, tasty enough for me to end up molesting an incredibly sweet contestant, the Emperor from Team Fully Operational. Unfortunately, I don't have a photo of him without the mask.

Although egged on my Kevin (and they say I'm an enabler) I did feel like Dirty Old Man when he told me he was 26. Or was it 27? Anyway, a bit young for me. Never mind straight. Did I mention there was free booze? There is a fine line between "taking advantage" and "willing participant." I stayed on the good guy side of that line.

But Lordy did we have fun.

It was very much that kind of night.

Always make an exit.