Today was the last Friday of November so it was a special critical mass. Elena had been run over and killed by a taxi the week before, so critical mass was to start at the location of her death. More than a hundred people showed up, including Justin and Jamie.
At this point all seemed well and quite regular besides the new starting point. We all started pedaling for our cause and soon the whole right hand side of the road was blocked. Cars like scraps of metal jammed between real machines. We headed down to the grand Piazza Venezia and peddled past the wedding cake/type writer/vittoriano and did a little loop around the island coming out towards the Theatre of Marcello. We zoomed past that and came to our first red light and waited. We compressed. Then we turned. And headed along the river and with various maneuvers we turned down the street with the tram cars and sped past Largo Argentina slowing down for the others. We made our way, with calm, blocking the cars, to Piazza Venezia once again. We took control as an already [laced identity and continued through to Via dei Fori Imperiali. It is at this point that the details start becoming confusing and disturbed. We followed Fori Imperiali down to the Coliseum, because we must have, and continued down the Viale Manzoni, blocking cars in our direction and against it . The people that are too serious about CM and life in general would scream
- non andare contro mano! COglioni!
and there was this one stuck up fortyfive year old that whenever we were entering some sort of intersection or dangerous area would say
- Dai stiamo tutti insieme (now dropping her voice) se no questi ce fanno male!
I hated her and repeatedly called her a cunt under my breath. At this point my friends and I were accidentally leading the way. At the end of Viale Manzoni we plunged into a huge six way intersection and veered right towards the Church o San Giovanni in Laterano. At this point many things may have happened yet I am unsure of which one actually did happen. Somebody said
- Andiamo a San Lorenzo!
And there were notes of si and notes of no but from what I understand the general consensus was yes. This would have been fantastic for my friends and I for San Lorenzo was a great place to get a beer and have a sit down but I don't remember ever getting there. We turned left or right or up or down and suddenly we were heading somewhere strange. Away from San Giovanni, away from the Roman walls, towards a place I had never been, and still can't really say I've been to. We seem to have cycled so far we ended up on a highway out of Rome. Then we crossed a river. Is such a thing possible? It was not the Tiber, a river that I am very familiar with, but it was no stream. Upon crossing it we swooped down to the right and the entirety of critical mass was speeding down hill by the river bed. At the bottom of the hill everyone started filing into a tiny little side street and that is when I had my first glimpse of wonderland. The cobbled street was lined with small Christmas like trees on either side and lights were strung up everywhere. The mood was jovial and young and a feeling of mirth was in the air. People were gathered all about and for the first time that evening we were greeted with welcome. We were no longer in Rome, this was Paris, a wonderland. We cycled to the top of the hill and all set our bikes down to enjoy the wonderful atmosphere.
We panicked. The air was beautiful and all, but where in the hell were we? We had two options. Stay with critical mass and let them lead us back to safety. Leave immediately and try and find our own way back. The former meant waiting around for a while and being dragged back like starved slaves. The latter meant getting food soon and experimenting with a little bit of free adventure. We climbed onto our bikes and cycled to the very top of the hill and carefully crossed the free way. We plunged down a long, winding road between trees and buildings and dogs but no people. Soon those wonderful lights faded and we had only the dark gloom of the street lamps. We were no longer cycling, we were on a roller coaster that we had no control of. The roller coaster relied purely on our instinct. Jamie was freaking out. He was having a horrible time. He wanted to get back to Rome, eat, and be somewhere familiar. Justin was thriving in the adventure and complete foreignness of our situation. I repeated over and over again that it was one of the five most fun times I’ve ever had. Now I can't remember much. We went down side street after side street. We could see down a valley, little lights of some distant town. We were in some ugly version of the country side, it made me want to live there. Finally we found to stranger standing on the side walk and Justin asked
- Scusi, dov'é termini? The man looked at him like he was asking how to get to Grand Central from Washington DC.
- Va giu dritto e gira a destra. The two looked at each other strangely and we continued down the sharp hill. Winding and winding and winding like marbles down the hill until we reached the bottom and curved to the right. This seems to have been the instruction that lead us back into Rome, yet for another twenty minutes we simply wound and wound still lost. Eventually Jamie, from somewhere, gathered a sense of direction and we were in front of the large and towering Coin supermall. We delved through the Roman walls and the responsibility was dropped on me to take us to the Indian restaurant.
