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MISSION 5: THE WALL OF DANCE
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MISSION 4: SIDEWALK BIKRAM'S YOGA
The Friday afternoon Bikram's yoga class had been underway for several minutes, when an anonymous yoga instructor and a couple students arrived outside the large bay window. Rather than enter the studio, the instructor and her students proceeded to have their own class on the sidewalk next to Central Ave. One by one, students began to accumulate, until the sidewalk was covered with folks - hipsters, athletes, businesswomen - mirroring the sequence of asanas of the sweaty practitioners inside. One yogi practiced on a bamboo sushi mat; another, on a mylar sun visor from their car.
The sidewalk class was proceeding without incident until the irate man walked up to the spandex clad instructor and asked: "Don't you think this is a little disruptive to the people inside the actual yoga studio?"
Of course not! Yoga is about serenity, centered-ness, and peace. Why would our presence affect the people next to us, the paying customers luxuriating in their heated, indoor environment? The man attempted to break up the class, unsuccesfuly, and left in a fury. Moments later, a police car appeared, observing the scene.
The yoga instructor was unruffled. She continued teaching in a calm voice: "Inhale. Envision a peaceful space in front of you. Now put your left foot in. Put your left foot out. Put your left foot in, and shake it all about."
The policemen laughed, took a photo, and drove away. After a full forty five minutes of Yoga postures, a slow-motion YMCA and a serene and holistic Macarena, the sidewalk class dispersed. No evidence was left that this was, in fact, another mission executed by the Street Theatre Brigade, but for those in the know, you know who it was....
MISSION 3: THE LAUNDROMAT CLOWN ATTACK
A lone clown, dressed in red suspenders, ambles up to the window of the laundromat at Princeton and Central and inflates a whoopie cushion. The clientele are mildly amused, but more focused on the cleansing of their intimate apparel, when suddenly another clowns joins the first: this one wears a brightly striped coat, and juggles a set of colorful balls. A third clown approaches: blonde, red-frocked and turning cartwheels and walkovers down the street. Then a fourth clown appears, a fifth, a sixth, until a zany circus of instruments, acrobatics and absurdity accumulates in front of the laundromat, a miniature spectacle for the entertainment of the spectators on the other side of the window.
Just then, from down the road, comes the roar of an angry mob. Dozens of irate citizens come running at the clown troupe wielding pillows, stuffed animals, inflatable pool toys, boxing gloves... "Down with clowns!" they cry, as they pummel the innocent clowns to the ground. The attackers run off to the east, victorious, leaving the sidewalk strewn with clown bodies plastered to the pavement.
The clowns stagger to their feet. They stumble around, bewildered, brush themselves off, and then approach the laundromat with small, white business cards that they stick to the window:
"The Street Theatre Brigade Was Here".
The clowns scamper and skip down the road, waving farewell to the disoriented witnesses of the incident. Sources report a similar occurence just moments later at the Panda Express on Girard, only this time, one clown manages to escape the attack, leading a wild clown chase up Central towards the Nob Hill Bar & Grill. Bystanders at Kelly's, Flying Star, Scalo and Geckos all reported having witnessed identically brutal and bizaare clown attacks early last Friday evening. Did you?
MISSION 2: WAL MART ZOMBIES
They entered the Wal Mart slowly. Dark circles under their eyes, mouths slightly open, lurching and stumbling through the aisles. The Wal-Mart shoppers drew their carts aside in politically correct fear. The floor staff speculated in hushed voices about who these intruders could be. Were they on drugs? Only a privileged few in the store knew what was really happening. Zombies. It's true: just after 5pm on Friday evening, a sizeable group of undead citizens roamed the Wal-Mart on Carlisle, distinguishable from the regular clientele only by their glassy, glazed-over eyes, their glacial walking pace, the unintelligible mumblings coming from their throats, and their inability to comprehend the consumer experience. One zombie stood and stared at a bottle of mustard for over three minutes. Another tried to eat an entire case of Vitamin Water. A third pulled paper towels from a dispenser, over and over, for no reason at all! More than once, the zombies crashed into a tower of boxed products in the middle of the aisles, only to do it again moments later! Passersby were rendered utterly confused. One customer witnessed a zombie pressing his face against the door of a walk-in freezer, and for some reason decided to do the same; another customer joined a zombie in repeatedly opening and closing a Tupperware container, unaware that her compatriot in shopping was indeed the walking dead. A young couple watched as the sallow, emaciated zombies staggered past racks of children's clothing. "They are fucked up." The husband assured his wife. She nodded, unable to look away. The corps of corpses infiltrated the school-supply aisle, gnawing on Hannah Montana products and mindlessly fondling items in the arts and crafts section. They began to twitch, and drool, and fall over into large product displays. Security guards surrounded them, whispering into their walkie-talkies. Suddenly, at the sound of a vague intercom announcement, the zombies began to head for the exit. "I knew it," said the elderly greeter as they exited the building. "I knew it as soon as they walked in the door." Fortunately no one was hurt during the Wal Mart Zombie episode. Nor did the security guards notice the young man who followed the zombies around the store holding a boxed egg-beater… and what seemed to be a video camera lens inconspicuously poking out the side. But, did anyone notice the business card dropped at the scene of the incident, upon which was mysteriously written: "The Street Theatre Brigade was here"? Keep checking in... hilarious footage is on it's way!
MISSION 1: THE SLOW MOTION RACE
A little after 5 p.m. on Friday evening, a motley crew of athletes sauntered to the duck pond on UNM campus. Dressed in short shorts, spandex and a clown’s assortment of sunglasses, sweatbands and legwarmers, they stretched and warmed up. Some ran sprints. Some did lunges while smoking cigarettes. Amid rally cries and a flurry of high-fives, the group’s apparent leader assembled them along a starting line. A lone cheerleader, in full regalia, shouted “Ready! Set!,” and then blew long on a whistle. And nothing happened. Or so it may have appeared at first. Several onlookers began to murmur. Someone called out “It’s a slow race!” At an almost imperceptible pace, knees rose high, feet pounded pavement, mouths opened, fists stretched toward the finish. The guy in 70’s headband and shiny red shorts took the lead. Then the woman in the yellow hot pants and fluorescent orange legwarmers pulled ahead. Fifteen runners, moving like molasses, fought forward. People in the crowd shouted out to their favorites, calling them by their absurd and distinctive clothing. “C’mon orange mesh guy! You can do it!” Then everything began to unravel. First the red shorts guy went down, arms akimbo, hitting hard and rolling. It was a five minute fall. One and two at a time, other racers followed suite, tripping over those already on the ground and sabotaging each other with elbows to the face: all in slow motion. As bodies rolled over dreamily and piled up, one lone runner crossed the finish line and began to clap in slow-mo. The downed runners started clapping too. The clapping picked up speed until it reached a regular tempo and everyone was standing, brushing each other off and high-fiving again. The crowd watching clapped as well, clearly amused, and the crew jogged off. Two more races were held Friday, one on Johnson Field and the other at the intersection of Central and Cornell. People exercising in Johnson Gym were treated to a slow race through the windows in front of their treadmills. People walking by and even many people in moving cars stopped to watch. After the races, several of the runners handed out small cards or placed them casually on benches nearby. The cards read Street Theatre Brigade. Keep a sharp eye out for them.
BLOG FROM WWW.ALIBI.COM
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