The Unbearable Whiteness of Bay to Breakers

This year was my first time attending Bay to Breakers, an annual footrace which is less so a running competition or more so an excuse for young-ish Bay Area residents to dress in ridiculous costumes and get smashed whilst traipsing through the city. I dressed up as a hipster, but quickly realized while walking through the drunken crowd that nary a person recognized my costume. Sad. And then I remembered where I was and why leggings, high tops, a scarf, and big sunglasses wouldn't cause anyone to attempt to stop their fixie and do a double take.

Mistakenly, my friend and I decided to start drinking once we found a good perching spot in the park. Worst idea ever. You don't want to be sober when witnessing such depravity, though part of me is grateful that I'm able to recount the horror. Someone has to bring these stories to light. I am the person that lived to tell.

First off, B2B is like Halloween in May. And we know how much white people love Halloween. Actually, I think they like any chance to dress up: Sporting events, Ugly Sweater Parties, Compton Cookouts... I was actually impressed by how elaborate some of the costumes were (Lego man was my favorite, actually)

and the fact that people had spent time constructing floats rigged with stereo systems to push through the city. Of course, the day was also used as an excuse for men and women to show off their junk to as many pairs of eyeballs as humanly possible. Men in speedos and spandex, topless women with macramé pasties.

Oh, and the genitalia exposed while peeing.

Holy Mary mother of God, the peeing.

There was not a tree or bush or square inch of grass that was not teeming in human urine. I know it's mostly alcohol-induced, but there was not an ounce of shame or modesty to be found in the place. Ladies (a term I use loosely) dropped trou and squatted like it was as normal as tying a shoe. Dudes let their penises flop about and I even saw one guy try to pee on his friend. The park was their communal, unisex bathroom.

And no, I didn't see a single person reach for hand sanitizer or even a wet wipe. Or even toilet paper or a napkin or a piece of newspaper borrowed from a homeless person. As a clean freak, this was my 'Nam.

But once we left Urine Central, I felt more at ease. We found a semi-sunny patch of (dry) grass and finally got drunk. At that point, it's a whole other experience. Suddenly, the people I found obnoxious and disgusting became funny and slightly endearing. A wasted gal -- self-identified as "just a white girl who tans" -- plopped onto our blanket to say she was a wedding photographer and had worked scads of Chinese American weddings that spring. "It's like every weekend is the Chinese American experience, man! I just started calling this one groom White Guy #4 because they all marry white dudes!" I liked her immediately. 

I was also intrigued by a mass dance party which formed in about half a second after some dudes set up speakers and blasted "Burning Down the House" by The Talking Heads. That song is like a hipper "Don't Stop Believing" in terms of getting white folks to start shaking it.

I saw a handful of Asians here and there, a handful of African Americans, and my companion that day is half-Mexican, but for the most part, it was like a blizzard. I had never really seen anything like it before. The peeing, the littering, the passing out in the grass, the exhibitionism, the luxuriating in all things campy, corny, or ludicrous. And then I thought, "Damn...it must be pretty fun to be white!"

I mean, we folks of color have a lot of fun, too. Our food is awesome, we love to drink, we can converse in other languages, we have customs and culture that is easily identifiable. Plus, we get to make jokes about white people. But those white people have something that we don't have: uninterrupted fun. I bet they worry less about being bullied or arrested or denied entry. They don't feel like they're making their race look bad by peeing on an open sidewalk. They can dress like an Al-Qaeda terrorist and not actually be questioned by Homeland Security:

So in my semi-hazy state, I got to thinking: Hey, my ethnic friends! We should try to party like white people! Not in like a UCSD kinda way, but in terms of being totally carefree. Okay, so adopting this mentality may almost certainly lead to one of us getting tased, but before that cop reaches for his belt, think of all the fun we could have if we just pretended like we had all the privilege in the world. It'd be pretty fantastic. We wouldn't even have time to get irritated with douche bags; we would be the douche bags! We'd have carte blanche to be as lowest common denominator as possible. Those people seem to have the most fun. The ones that worry about "offending others" or "embarrassing themselves" or "contracting a urinary tract infection" are the wallflowers, the Debbie Downers, the sticks in the mud.

What do say, comrades? Do we stay on this so-called high road or do we start dressing like this?

I'm just playing; I'm totally taking the high road. Chances are, no one's pissed on it yet.