The third Sunday in May marks a glorious occasion for all San Franciscans: the annual foot race from the San Francisco Bay to the Pacific Ocean, also known as "Bay to Breakers" or the biggest shit show of the year.
Though it is often compared to New Orleans' Mardi Gras, B2B is something entirely unique and incomparable to any other city event. The actual racers take off on their 7-mile jaunt to the beach at about 8am, some in costumes that are just doing it for fun, and others in runners gear who are actually competing to make it to the shore. But for the most part, it's the band of thousands and thousands of people that follow the runners that make the day famously known for nude runners, floats adorned with kegs and women in bikinis, absurd costumes, and of course public intoxication.
This year marked the 98th Annual Bay to Breakers, and it almost didn't happen. Well, it wouldn't have been canceled per se, but there was a threat to ban alcohol and nudity, which would have taken away everything that defines Bay to Breakers. Fortunately, some city officials stepped up to support the tradition of B2B and our precious event was saved.
This was only my second Bay to Breakers, and I must admit that last year seemed a little more crazy than this year. Maybe because last year I started downtown with the rest of the drunken buffoons, or maybe because we had a bigger group and a more organized theme (Mario Kart), or maybe just because I was more drunk last year and I couldn't even make it past the half-way mark, the Panhandle. (For those of you who have never been to SF, the Panhandle is the little green strip of park that leads to Golden Gate park.) The Panhandle is really the make-or-break point of Bay to Breakers; it separates the binge drinkers from the black outers. If you can make it past the ridiculousness that is the Panhandle, than your chances of making it to the beach increase by 50%.
This year I dressed as "pink slips" with some friends of mine - we wore pink nightgowns and pinned post-its on us with messages like "downsizing" and "we're going to have to let you go." As we walked through the Panhandle this year, I was stopped by a group of cops standing around a huge pile of empty beer cans. One cop pulled on my arm and asked me to finish by beer or throw it out. I had quite a lot left, so I tried to chug it, and another cop grabbed my arm, turning the can upside down and causing the beer to spill on my toes. Annoyed, I huffed and puffed and moved along down the street, determined to make it out of the booze-trap that the Panhandle had turned into.
Before I knew it we had made it to the deYoung Museum in Golden Gate Park, only mere miles from our final destination, Ocean Beach, where we planned to run into the ocean and cool off from the 4 mile walk (we started at Alamo Square) in the unusually hot 85 degree weather. By the time we got to the beach, I was sunburned on my chest, and limping from a blister on the bottom of my foot that was the size of a quarter. But that didn't stop me from dashing to the water and falling asleep for about an hour on the hot sand.
This year did seem more tame than the last, and maybe it was because of the regulations the cops tried to enforce. Either way, I hope that it has shown the city that they can (try to) take our beer, but they can't take our freedom!
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