Sunday, 16 March 2003 | L8R SK8R

It was 65 degrees in New York today, and it seemed as if the entire city abandoned their apartments in collective appreciation. I went to Central Park, where I followed the winding roads that cut through its heart like arteries and veins, pumping bikes and pedestrians and inline skaters instead of blood. I followed the roads, then the throbbing bass, and then I headed in the direction of a swarm of people. (I knew what I was looking for.)

Inside the swarm was a neatly cut oval that was trafficked by roller skates and roller blades, by the shirtless and the tank-topped and the sunglassed, moving unevenly and persistently in a counterclockwise direction. From what I could tell, there were people participating from all financial backgrounds, and there was definitely a swirl of races and ages and body types. Fat, old, young, black, beautiful, Asian, skinny, white, immodest, Hispanic, stylish, plain, muscular, short, hairy, cornrowed, agile, tall, dreadlocked, bald. Almost everyone skated, and many danced—some by themselves, some synchronized line-dancing style, some ballroom-style, some breakdance-style. A couple people skated with water bottles on their heads, showcasing their strict balance, or they jumped and spun in the air, or wove in and out among the other skaters and swept past the onlookers, clearing us by inches.

A skinny black woman wearing gold sunglasses and MC Hammer pants danced on the inside of the circle next to the DJ, beside a round bald man sitting like a Buddah at her feet. Little white girls held hands and giggled as they sped round and round. An incredibly quick and fluid skater—a black guy wearing headphones and all gray—laughed with everyone else when he fell on his ass. "It's the first time today!" he insisted. A skinny Asian girl with a halter top and her hat turned sideways moved gracefully with her dance partner and made it look easy to look cool. A young white guy wearing bracelets and a bandana kept trying to learn how to spin in the air, and kept watching the feet on the guy next to him. I swear, as ridiculous as it sounds, everyone was smiling.

Even though I wasn't skating (but taking pictures), I didn't feel like I was distanced from the event, which is somewhat unusual. A couple of the skaters acknowledged me by skating right up to me and taking a playful swipe at the camera, or by saying something funny that I can no longer recall. Yes, reminded why I like it here so much, and reminded that I'm concerned what will happen when there's more reason to worry.

Later, I stood alone at a candlelight vigil for peace at Union Square, watching people sing and talk and take pictures and draw with chalk on the sidewalk. I watched and listened and dug my thumb into the warm wax of my candle.

...

The other Ryan has SxSW pictures up too.