50 + 7 points
Journey to the End of the Night: Chicago/DC 2009 by kristylue
May 19th, 2009 3:04 PM
I don't have any pictures, or video, or comics, or dirt left over to prove that I completed Journey on May 2nd, but I did write a satirical article for The Daily Blank, a (new) online-based newspaper, and it was just published today. Hopefully, it functions well as a proof! I wanted to poke fun at how crazy we seemed to onlookers who had no chance to get the full story. Here's the link: http://www.thedailyblank.com/2009/05/street-game-explained-poorly-on-numerous-occasions-joggers-confused/
and the text:
Participants of Journey to the End of the Night, an urban street game organized by a local division of the online task-force SF0, could be seen on Saturday, May 2nd, racing to and fro. Journey, which occurs every spring, holds the intention of upsetting urban space in the form of childlike games such as tag, footraces, and secret agent dress-up.
The more than two hundred players began the race from Jackson and Columbus Avenues promptly at seven p.m. With “Chasers” sometimes sporting a complete tennis outfit (including racket) or gorilla suit following closely on bicycles, the scores of runners appeared to know what they were doing as they dived behind park benches, skirted up trees, and shouted, “ALERT! ALERT!” while jaywalking. Passersby enjoying Chicago’s seventeenth attempt at spring weather stopped in mid-jog and began asking questions.
“I was just scared,” said an overly athletic South Loop resident. “When I asked what was going on, a screaming guy told me that the city was under arrest and that the bikers had turned against us. I looked around and saw an elderly couple on a tandem. Were they the face of my newfound enemy? I wasn’t too sure.”
Witnesses at a small gas station in the Southeast neighborhood of Bridgeport were forced to wait in an inconveniently extended line while a handful of players gathered vitamin water and poured it on each other’s faces. “We’ve got to make it,” one allegedly began panting, near tears. “If I don’t reach checkpoint two before my ex, I might as well have let him in my bedroom with a chainsaw. Has anyone seen my manifest? I lost my manifest with all the stamps!”
When questioned about the whereabouts of these mysterious checkpoints, a mustachioed player in a bowler hat materialized from the shadows and began his own interrogation. “You, petty villain! Do you know the exact location of the undisclosed checkpoint between three and four? Are you in contact with a disguised informant from the sister-game being played in Washington D.C.? Did you meet with Flash Vespa?!” Consumers of the gas station fled and were not present for comment.
While the street game held a reasonable ambition — to implant a sense of play while protesting urban space — it seemed to uninformed spectators more like a scramble away from an enemy combatant. Witnesses voiced concern about an outbreak of invisible swine flu, as several of the players could be seen writhing on the ground in apparent torment and misery while covering their mouths with multi-colored bandanas.
When a group of six players was questioned outside the orange line Halsted stop, they offered conflicting rationales that spread from political dissent to ‘anything better than another night with ol’ Pabst’ to silence ‘for fear of spies.’ The game concluded at the Co-Prosperity Sphere on Morgan St. between 31st and 33rd in conjunction with a similarly unexplained art event, VersionFest.
Still don’t know what this article is about? For an official explanation and more information on similar events, refer to www.chicag0.org.
and the text:
Participants of Journey to the End of the Night, an urban street game organized by a local division of the online task-force SF0, could be seen on Saturday, May 2nd, racing to and fro. Journey, which occurs every spring, holds the intention of upsetting urban space in the form of childlike games such as tag, footraces, and secret agent dress-up.
The more than two hundred players began the race from Jackson and Columbus Avenues promptly at seven p.m. With “Chasers” sometimes sporting a complete tennis outfit (including racket) or gorilla suit following closely on bicycles, the scores of runners appeared to know what they were doing as they dived behind park benches, skirted up trees, and shouted, “ALERT! ALERT!” while jaywalking. Passersby enjoying Chicago’s seventeenth attempt at spring weather stopped in mid-jog and began asking questions.
“I was just scared,” said an overly athletic South Loop resident. “When I asked what was going on, a screaming guy told me that the city was under arrest and that the bikers had turned against us. I looked around and saw an elderly couple on a tandem. Were they the face of my newfound enemy? I wasn’t too sure.”
Witnesses at a small gas station in the Southeast neighborhood of Bridgeport were forced to wait in an inconveniently extended line while a handful of players gathered vitamin water and poured it on each other’s faces. “We’ve got to make it,” one allegedly began panting, near tears. “If I don’t reach checkpoint two before my ex, I might as well have let him in my bedroom with a chainsaw. Has anyone seen my manifest? I lost my manifest with all the stamps!”
When questioned about the whereabouts of these mysterious checkpoints, a mustachioed player in a bowler hat materialized from the shadows and began his own interrogation. “You, petty villain! Do you know the exact location of the undisclosed checkpoint between three and four? Are you in contact with a disguised informant from the sister-game being played in Washington D.C.? Did you meet with Flash Vespa?!” Consumers of the gas station fled and were not present for comment.
While the street game held a reasonable ambition — to implant a sense of play while protesting urban space — it seemed to uninformed spectators more like a scramble away from an enemy combatant. Witnesses voiced concern about an outbreak of invisible swine flu, as several of the players could be seen writhing on the ground in apparent torment and misery while covering their mouths with multi-colored bandanas.
When a group of six players was questioned outside the orange line Halsted stop, they offered conflicting rationales that spread from political dissent to ‘anything better than another night with ol’ Pabst’ to silence ‘for fear of spies.’ The game concluded at the Co-Prosperity Sphere on Morgan St. between 31st and 33rd in conjunction with a similarly unexplained art event, VersionFest.
Still don’t know what this article is about? For an official explanation and more information on similar events, refer to www.chicag0.org.
Tee hee!