Street Fair-ish

There was a fire on Duboce and Valencia which put a damper on the Sunday Streets celebration. Plot stopped his Plotkicycle to watch the fire, then continued on down the street towards the street fair.

He just removed his first snarky comment.

He saw capoeira demonstrations, kiosks selling mint chai with organic water, huge speakers blasting Huey Lewis and the News, cops texting each other in the shade in front of the police station, an all-female bluegrass band, an all-male cheerleader duo, and three-flavored tofu dogs grilling without any aroma at all. It was like 1996. And very few people on the street.

The problem is you need critical mass for these things to be any fun. You have to have twice as many people in half as much space. Just like smaller rooms make better parties, the same goes for street fairs.

And stink! Where's the stink? Where's the sausage and zeppole grease? No Three Card Monty? No priests dealing bingo?

You're right. This is Santa Cruz North, not Little Italy, and the San Gennaro street fair in NYC, once truly Italian-American, has become as ethnic as Dancing with the Stars. The last great street fair Plot and Duck were in was San Telmo in Buenos Aires.

NOTE: to those of you who can't walk down the middle of a street fair without talking on your I-Phones or listening to music? Which universe are you in? There are a zillion kids in wagons and moms and dads on bikes and happy people looking every which way but you're oblivious to all that because you're weaving down the middle of the street talking to your girl friend about her shoes?