CRITICAL MASS MIAMI

Maybe you shouldn't come on the next

Critical Mass bike ride. So many enjoy this popular monthly event the bureaucrats may try to shut it down.

Over 1000 bike lovers now participate the wild ride that swoops and zooms all over Miami. They come in all shapes, sizes, on all kinds of bikes.

Very few are lycra-clad racers.

A remarkable number blast their own sound systems. We heard hip-hop, reggae, salsa, and son as we rolled on the evening's journey.

It begins, as always, at Government Center. The number of riders gathering there on the last Friday of the month have almost reached a "critical mass" (sometimes defined as "the minimal amount of fissionable material

that can sustain a nuclear reaction"). None of us wants this great event to explode, implode, or get regulated to death because it is too popular.

Friday night's affair was just right.

At 7 pm one of the organizers stood on top of a light post and asked us to ride safe. He reminded us of Aaron Cohen, last

week's fatality. The father of two was cycling with a friend on the Rickenbacker Causeway when he was cut down by a hit-and-run driver. Many of us wore white in his memory.

At 7:16 someone blew a whistle and the rolling mass slowly headed west.

The lights of downtown Miami were spectacular atop the Flagler Street Bridge. I would have taken a picture except for the ride's main rule, "Don't stop".

On 17th Ave. we headed north and passed the glistening new baseball stadium. I tried to appreciate it's amazingness despite it making our city so broke.

Turning east on 36th took us through Wynwood, the Design District, and Little Haiti. Ten miles into our trip it was time to head south down Biscayne Blvd. In the process we saw a slices of Miami you could only see on a CM ride.

I imagined it might be similar if we were riding on a magic bus a half-mile long. Our ride would have no roof, no walls and travel at just 12 m.p.h. We'd be enjoying the sights and sounds of our city plus the new friends around us. To keep our bus' momentum we would blow

through every stop sign and red light in sight (with friends temporarily blocking the traffic...a little like a presidential motorcade).

That's how it was, a wild, rolling party. It continued past the end when we gathered at The Filling Station to drink beer.

Riding in big groups like this feels too fun to be legal. Florida law actually allows bicycle groups to take up a full lane of traffic. "Share the road" and "Be considerate" are other important rules.

In a little over an hour we had plowed through pieces of Cuba, Nicaragua, Haiti, the Dominican Republic and a few other countries.

I had no idea so many barbershops were open for business in Friday night.

One customer ran out wearing his haircut gown to cheer us on. The Full Gospel Church was having a service right next to the Temptation Bar. Lit up past the glass you could see it all.

Only a handful of drivers cursed us, upset by blocked traffic, their lives put on hold for five minutes. When one man yelled, "Get the f--- out of the road!" hundreds laughed back.

99% of the people I saw cheered us on.

As we finally glided to a stop by the big blue bank my first-time friends smiled in disbelief. Who knew a bike could be this much fun?

BYE-BYE BERNICE

It's a lot harder to eat at Bernice's since

they put a 6-foot fence around it. It'll be even harder tomorrow when they bulldoze the tiny West Grove cafe.

The City of Coral Gables bought the 20,000

sq. ft. property to build a warehouse to maintain its "trolleys" (actually motorhomes with a lot of seats and windows). The City of Miami wants it to also be a "trolley station" (actually a bus stop).

Either one would be a good thing for Coconut Grove which has not had a new commercial building erected in years.

If nothing else, it would bring some jobs to a neighborhood with high unemployment. Bernice's usually had just one employee and you can probably guess her name.

GLENN IN SPACE

Fifty years have passed since astronaut John Glenn first circled the earth.

It's easy for me to remember as we share a name and he launched on my 15th birthday.

I even know the time (9:47) as it was almost my birth year (1947). When I got home from school my father told me he had seen the whole thing.

Captain Terry was flying south past Cape

Canaveral in an Eastern Airline 727. When his radio informed him of the impending launch, he asked for permission to stay in the area. He then banked right and flew in a circle around the rocket as it rose into space. The passengers must have been thrilled.

ART WYNWOOD

Suppose you plopped down a tent the size of a Walmart and invited the world's galleries to display their best contemporary art there?

You'd have Miami's latest Big Event, Art Wynwood.

It opened last night, for the first time, in Miami's Midtown art district.

When we walked in we encountered human giraffes, statuesque models dressed in recycled materials.

Who knew you could package yourself for a big night in bubble wrap?

We saw many of our friends from the Grove enjoying the new experience as well.

Check it out. Art Wynwood continues through February 20th at 3101 NE 1st Ave.

HOG WILD

I visited the Reno family on Tuesday. They live on a couple of wooded acres not far from my school.

Brother Mark is a frontiersman and when I gave him a big papaya he asked, "Do you eat pork?". When I said I did he pulled a package of wild boar out of the freezer. We had it for dinner last night and it was delicious.

We visited Sister Janet in the big house and I presented her with a valentine my students had made. She was nice enough to visit our school a couple of years ago. She seemed pleased.

DOWN TO OUR ROOTS

When we stumbled onto Butte's "Montana Folk Music Festival" last July, we became fans of roots music. The definition is hazy but it seems to be the music from the past on which most popular music is based. Some call it "world music".

Yesterday got a big helping of it at Miami's first "Grassroots Music & Dance Festival" on Virginia Key. Gospel, reggae, latin, bluegrass, and African groups played. We danced.

The night before Chaka Khan sang. We'd have gone just to the hear the always amazing Cajun group, Beausoliel.

Only 500 attended Saturday afternoon while there was room for 5000. It must have been the week's wind and rain. There were no lines for food, beer, or bathrooms. While I was there a guy chided us urinal users for "peeing too long". He must have been joking as he had to wait thirty seconds.

On Saturday afternoon the sun broke through grey clouds as a group of us put on a Love Parade. We strutted and smiled as fairies, love boats, pimps, love monkeys, and a

walking Shakespearean

sonnet.

In Miami it is sunny and dry so why not attend the festival today? It's just 30 bucks for twelve hours of music and fun. If enough of us go maybe they'll come back next year.

For more information go to virginiakeygrassroots.org

CRITICAL MASS

Friday night we went on a bike ride with 600 friends.


It was another two-wheeled adventure sponsored by the cycling advocate group, Critical Mass Miami.



They call it "a celebration of cycling". Every month they invite bikers to join them for a mad dash about town. Above you see us gathering in beautiful downtown Miami.
It begins at 7 pm on the last Friday of the month at Government Center.

It's always a friendly bunch,
most between the ages of 20 and 40. Two carried babies and one girl, astride a Barbie Bike, was six.
Our friend Gina was easy to spot in her signature dolphin helmet. Her left arm is still in a cast from a cycling accident two months ago.

At 7:30 someone gave a shout and we slowly began to roll. For ten miles we zipped along happily running red lights and stop signs. Helpers blocked the intersections as they do in funeral processions. They call their procedure "corking". Said one rowdy rider, "We don't block traffic, we are traffic!".

Somewhere 17th Avenue I lost Francesca in the fast-paced crowd. Zipping along at 12 m.p.h. it's not easy to stop.

When I did a stranger lent me his cellphone so I could find her. My two sons were somewhere in the pack as well though I never saw them (and they never saw each other). Its a long procession that stretches out for blocks.

There are Critical Mass rides all over the world. Consider being part of the fun. Join us downtown next month (February 24th), or in another city (listed at www.critical-mass.info) or start one of your own (same website). The local group is on Facebook (CriticalMassMiami) or can be found at www.themiamibikescene.com .

The legality of the rides continues to be questioned. Organizers feel they are within the law. They do not seek permits saying, "If cars don't need them why should we?"

Legal or not, it's a fun affair. Friday's tour took us over the Miami River, through Little Havana, past the new baseball stadium, and back though the glittering condo canyons where it all began.

It reminded me of Pamplona except instead of bulls chasing us, we chased each other.

FROZEN ZOO

On the second Saturday night of every month galleries in Wynwood and the Design District are open for business. On our way home from last week's art walk we passed a new one for us. A bright neon sign on Biscayne Boulevard invited us to see "Art by God".

Intrigued by the large skeleton in the

front window, we pulled over. Stepping inside

we learned that the artist (God) had made indicate sea shells,

luminescent rocks, stuffed animals, and even penis bones. Francesca refused to go near the dead critters, which took up half of the store, but I pressed on. There was something transfixing about high level of taxidermic art displayed.

Many of the animals seemed to be caught mid-stride, like one moment they were prowling the veldt and -ZAP- they were suddenly some fat cat's hat rack.

Who buys this stuff?

A puma was climbing down the wall ($6000) and the front half of a bull elephant ($19,900) was coming through it. The least expensive dead mammal was a ratty, old possum. It could be had for $165.

I began thinking how odd it was, this house of corpses, then I remembered the Dead Chinese on Tour.

Six years ago locals were lining up at Sunset Place to see the stuffed people from Shanghai. I was not one of them but the demand is there. They'll probably have one standing next to Mr.Baboon soon.

35th 52 TOUR

The B-52s are very much alive and are presently on their 35th anniversary tour. The world's greatest party band will play the Arsht Center on February 12th.

I will be celebrating the 33d anniversary of the day I went to the beach with them.

Audrey, a friend of mine, was a friend of theirs so in '78 we frolicked in the surf at Crandon Park. We didn't drink tequila, dive for rock lobster or retreat to my love shack. They seemed to enjoy just sitting in the sun. Maybe it was me but that day they were quiet, nice, and normal.