Everett & Ramona -- Friday, July 16, 1999 -- 10:00pm

Ah, so deliciously public. Our perfectly
regular, completely spontaneous Friday 
twilight neighborhood parties, on the 
sidewalk in front of WorkSpot...

This one starts with some "intersection
frisbee". The goal of the game: slow down peak
traffic at the nasty intersection (should
be a four-way stop, sigh...) But not freak
out the cars by throwing frisbees at them. 
When a car approaches, we stop playing, 
and smile. They slow down anyway. Often
a hand reaches through the sun roof as if 
to catch. I think we've stopped a few 
accidents. Just by tossing a disk, corner 
to corner.

One of the game's hazards is the four storm
drains on the corners. Gaping potential
frisbee-eaters. Our catchphrase is:
"know your drains" -- both for the tosser
and the catcher. Who knows what would
happen if a disk went down a storm drain...

It never happened ... until this night.

Glen comes over. He borrows Asao's fine guitar,
which he loves to play. Becca breaks out her 
Bassoon, which she aims like a bazooka at anyone
who razzes her about her chosen axe. Curt gets 
his guitar, and the three begin to jam.

A pleased crowd gathers, both around the frisbee
and the music. Eventually, the three musicians start
writing some songs. They work on one entitled:
"know your drains".

As night falls, the tiki torches are lit. A dazzling
festive mood ensues. Finally the song is finished! 
Becca shouts to the frisbee players "Hey everyone, 
we've finished a song called 'know your drains'! 
Come listen!"

Just then, someone was throwing a Frisbee to Benny.
He was on the corner nearest to Becca, and he
turned when he heard her. So that he didn't see 
the frisbee. Everyone shouted "Benny!" The frisbee 
headed towards the storm drain! He dives though 
the bushes! He knocks over a tiki torch! Flames fly 
everywhere! He rolls on the ground! He streches every
last inch, reaching for the drain! But it's too late!
The frisbee has escaped into the storm drain! 

The cautionary song itself causes the accident.

Benny dusts himself off. Everyone tastes the irony
of the moment. Someone grabs a flashlight, peers through
the steel grate. The frisbee is barely visible at the 
bottom of the drain. We find a very long pole... 
but poking at it makes the frisbee go down the washout.

We mourn. All is lost. For an hour, our guests try
valiantly to recover the disk, to no avail. We try 
attaching gum and duct tape to the pole. Wild ideas 
come out -- burning all the leaves in the drain with 
the tiki torches; melting the frisbee a little so it 
sticks to the pole; melting it all the way, sucking 
it up with a straw and recasting it into another

But Bruce has other ideas. After a few tests, he determines 
that the huge grate on the storm drain is only held in place 
by some dirt and its own vast weight. He digs out the dirt, 
everyone lifts, and voilá, the hole is open! But where's
the frisbee?

"It's my frisbee", says Curt, who jumps into the 6-foot-hole,
flashlight in hand, backlit by the flickering of the tiki

He is gone for several minutes, reaching into the side
drainpipes and washouts, sorting through debris. While 
he's down there a drunken fellow, rather preppie, staggers
up to us, holding a dress shirt and wearing a t-shirt.
He looks at the people around the hole, but is pre-occupied 
with some problem of his own. 

"Excuse me" he says "I think I'm in trouble with the police.
My friends and I jumped the line at a nightclub down the 
street. I was then chased away. But I need to go back there 
to find them. I need a disguise. Could I please trade shirts 
with someone?"

Becca convinces him that he only needs to wear his
shirt around his waist, and he goes away. But not
before Curt shouts "I have it!" and pops his head
up, only to see this odd guy, just leaving.

"Who's that?" he asks. We explain. "He distracted 
everyone in my moment of triumph!" he pouts in jest.
"I've been upstaged by 'random man'."

"You're still our hero, Curt" everyone assures him, 
a bit drunkenly.

"Well", Curt ponders, looking back at the grate
after it has been replaced, "having been IN one, 
I certainly have to say that, now, I really 
'know my drains'!"
And here's a guest sketch
of the incident by Kathy Giori