A Tall Ship's Long Shadow

Last week, I and a number of other Googlers answered the Call of the Sea, volunteering time, labor, and a bit of ingenuity to further the construction of the Matthew Turner, a historically-inspired tall ship being built in Sausalito.

At the time of our visit, the ship was already in the water, but was still lacking essential components like the masts and sails.

Toys for Tots, and Grown-ups Too

Last Sunday, while en route to OSH, I spotted a fire truck, with lights flashing, turning into a parking lot and decided to follow it. It turns out that the Sunnyvale Department of Public Safety (which encompasses both fire and police) was running an annual half-day event where people could donate toys to Toys for Tots in exchange for a round-the-block ride in a fire truck. The event took place in the Toys"R"Us parking lot near Sunnyvale Saratoga Rd.

A woman climbs into the cab of a fire engine.

Public Safety Officer Cortez waits at the head of the line to receive donated toys and usher the groups of people toward the waiting trucks. Many of the toys were then collected in the rear of the vintage fire truck on the left.

The truck, a functional 1929 Ahrens-Fox fire engine, was for all intents and purposes a child magnet. Once one parent had pulled a child off of the truck, it was only a matter of time before another child would climb up into the open cab.

A mother (left, obscured) reaches for the clapper of the fire bell to stop her son from ringing it.

Public Safety Officer Lyons smiles for the camera while visiting with his family. Lyons had spent the earlier parts of the day in the driver's seat of one of the fire trucks.

A public safety explorer helps a father and daughter buckle in for the engine ride.

BYOBW 2010: Still in control… maybe…

This was the second year that Bring Your Own Big Wheel went down Potrero Hill, and the first that it did so in the rain. As might be expected, the weather further reduced what little braking and steering effectiveness the riders might have mustered in the dry, and as a result folks went faster and, inevitably, crashed harder.

Even so, the rain and wind didn't stop participants from going balls-to-the-wall with both their costumes and their "big wheels." Pictured above is one of the crazier vehicles I spotted during my short stint this year. I suppose if the carpet dolly tipped over, the guy would just drop onto the saucer sled and keep going with no real reduction in control? I'm not entirely sure, but it was definitely fun to watch.

The similarities between BYOBW and Mario Kart are obvious — multiple Marios and Luigis were in attendance both last and this year. This was, however, the first time I saw someone with actual technology from the game. Somewhat appropriately, this guy also had a red shell which he lost (that is, "avoided") during an earlier run.

And this person was apparently demonstrating what happens when you "find" a red shell in the middle of the course. In actuality, his/her big wheel had a pretty severe case of oversteer, and basically liked going backward more than it liked going forward. This was especially comical since the alligator costume obliterated any potential for peripheral vision, and thus, any potential to still figuring out which way didn't end with more tumbling.

"Ooh, pretty" was not a thought I expected to cross my mind during BYOBW, but what can I say? I like colors, and the fan/color wheel concept was pretty neat.

Of course, the shape and location of the entire color wheel attachment remind me of the Petey Piranha character from Mario Kart Double Dash, who will always be associated with loud, repeated complaints, composed nearly entirely of profanity (see xkcd), about his height and how he apparently always blocks your view when he's driving in front of you. I'm pretty sure that's the same reason why the guy with the orange and pink wheels ran into her. Either way, stay classy, Beast.

Speaking of class… Every year, there's someone who draws your attention despite your best efforts to look away. Last year, it was the Roman "tighty whitey" warriors on their razor scooters. This year, I'm pretty sure it's this guy. He's lookin' good and the bill in his bikini bottoms lets you know he means business.

Really, everything you need to know is written on the face of the guy behind him.

And somehow, we end where we began. Those of you who read last year's BYOBW post, "Kid Tested, Mother F'in Approved" will recognize the gentleman pictured above. Much like Oscar the Grouch, he is inextricably linked to the concept of trashcans in my mind. Thankfully, this year he did not disappoint, and showed up atop his traditional style of big wheel.

So, that was BYOBW this year. If you went, hopefully you had an awesome time. If not, I hope you enjoyed your Easter anyway. Finally, an oddly appropriate line from Dr. Seuss's Oh, The Places You'll Go!:
"You have brains in your head, you have feet in your shoes. You can steer yourself any direction you choose."

Asha Holi 2010 and Lessons on Play, Combat, and Human Nature

In a phrase, "It's all fun and games until someone gets hurt."

This past Saturday, March 27, I went to the Asha Holi celebration, held at a large, out-of-the-way field on Stanford's campus. The event website boasted a 2009 attendance of over 4,000. From the number of cars in the parking area, and the the density of people in the huge field, I could definitely believe it.

Having only ever been to a small Holi celebration, and that only as it was winding down, I expected to see a lot of people having a good ol' time, and in large part, that is indeed what I saw. However, I also noticed some patterns I found concerning. There were signs that some people were past the point of enjoyment, and that other people weren't taking those signals seriously. I saw joy, mirth, and frolic, but also witnessed fear, anger, and vengefulness.

By the time I left, there were sufficiently many people in such a fervor as to cause me to question the crowd-safety of the event. As history has shown time and time and time again, it only takes a small amount of confusion before a large crowd ends up trampling people.

What follows are my observations on how the situation developed, and some derivative realizations about human nature, especially as pertains to large crowds.

A fantasy (as discussed by Douglas Hofstadter in Gödel, Escher, Bach) is, in a sense, a temporary suppression of reality. It's the result of asking "What if…" — a doorway that you can walk through to enter a social construct with different rules and different norms. You don't become someone else, but your perception of what is acceptable changes, so you feel comfortable doing things you otherwise might not. Most importantly, though, a fantasy is a pretense that you can, in theory, drop at any time.

In the case of the Asha Holi celebration, the fantasy begins when you walk onto the field. It's usually not acceptable to throw pigment at people, and to dump water on people, but here it's ok. Even so, a fantasy has rules. When participants abide by those rules, people have fun.

As mentioned earlier, one aspect that adds to the feeling of comfort and safety in a fantasy is the thought that one can get out at any time. That if things start going too far, you can just snap out of it and all will be well again. That here, fear doesn't imply danger.

This was the first image that made me pause and think about what was actually going on in the playfield. While I was out there, watching and shooting, it looked as if these folks were having as good a time as everybody else; likely, they were. Later on, as I was going through photos at home, I was struck by the look of utter fear on the face of the man to the left.

So there was fear. Fear isn't necessarily bad in and of itself — like many people, I love rollercoasters, and fear is often a large part of the enjoyment. However, when emotions like fear are present, a participant who observes the rules of the fantasy being bent or broken may experience anger and other more intense emotions. In a sense, a known-safe situation now has the potential for danger, which leads the participants to forget that they're in a fantasy; the fantasy starts to become a reality, and it becomes harder to just "snap out of it."

The shift from enjoyable fear to terror often begins after a single event noticeably violates the rules of the fantasy. If a rollercoaster starts creaking a bit too much, or a rider's harness starts to come loose, the sentiment can change from "whee!" to "oh goodness, get me off of this thing now" in an instant.

In the iconic Stanford Prison Experiment of 1971, this moment of betrayal happened on the second day of the experiment, when the prisoners staged a rebellion, during which they taunted the guards. The guards responded with force; after quelling the rebellion, they "generally began to harass and intimidate the prisoners."

I saw and captured an analogous moment of betrayal at Holi. I noticed two boys — "green" and "orange" — just after orange had run past and thrown pigment in green's face. Having chatted earlier with two of the EMTs on site, essentially the only thing they were treating was people with pigment in their eyes, so presumably this sneak attack made green physically uncomfortable.

Immediately, green began gesticulating in a "why did you do that?!" manner — in his mind, orange had likely violated one of the tenets of the "Playing Holi" fantasy. Green stomped after orange in what was a very clear display of anger, and was likely also an attempt to intimidate orange.

As the two confronted each other, orange dismissively flicked pigment at green, in a sense ignoring the claims of foul play. Put another way, green had tried to get orange to "snap out of" the Playing Holi fantasy to realize that he had brought danger into a fantasy that should have been safe. Orange didn't comply, instead responding with what could be considered an act of disrespect — "your concerns aren't valid".

Considered within the Holi fantasy, the flick of pigment might have been appropriate, but taken outside of that fantasy, it could easily be thought of as a taunt. I have seen and heard of similar exchanges quickly escalating to violence. I don't believe that happened here, although the two moved out of sight before I could see how things played out.

After witnessing the confrontation, I moved to the area where volunteers were distributing pigment. The volunteers worked feverishly to keep the pigment coming. Despite the crowd's fervor, they appeared to be patient. Even so, in light of what I had seen moments before between the two boys, it seemed like a situation that would only require some small catalyst to turn sour.

One potential problem I noticed was that some people didn't seem to follow the rules of a line. In one case, a young woman received pigment, slapped it on the faces of two young men behind her, and then held her hands out for more. In the photo above, a man grabbed a bucket of orange pigment and threw it in the air.

Again, as far as I could tell while watching, none of this led to any real confrontation. Had such a confrontation occurred, a panic would likely have ensued, especially given that everyone was pressed against everyone else. A volunteer I spoke with noted that the crowd was gradually pushing the tables inward. The pressing would have made it hard to flee in the event that something happened, and when people feel trapped, they often panic.

All in all, this seemed like a fun event where whatever scuffles that occurred were few and minor, and the majority of people had a great time. That said, I still can't help but feel that it treaded perilously close to the line where fun can turn to danger.

The short article "Crowd Panic…" mentions a number of situational properties that can lead to dangerous crowd panics. Foremost among them are "[lack of] sufficient exits and the absence of supervision." Needless to say, there was very little supervision. I noticed a couple security guards, but they were likely far too few to keep their eyes on everybody — the center of the area was essentially unpoliced.

As for exit routes, consider the image above. If you follow the right sign-pole to the ground, you'll note that it's attached to a fence. The majority of the area was surrounded either by fences or by trees and brush, as visible in the distance. What few openings were present were generally impeded — the pigment distribution area, the tables where the EMTs were stationed, and the portable restrooms all blocked would-be emergency exits.


So finally, a plea: stay safe; keep human nature in mind when planning large events. To conclude, here are a few lines from Robert Burns' poem To a Mouse:
The best laid schemes of mice and men
Go often askew,
And leave us nothing but grief and pain,
For promised joy!

Kid Tested, Mother F'in Approved

Hi again. I have a massive backlog of photos, but I hope to deal with this by sleeping less (just like school!). Hopefully, I'll also be able to maintain an abnormally high posting frequency as I work through them. And writer's block shouldn't be an issue since I generally try to avoid sleeping in critical sections. Anyway, enjoy!

Bring Your Own Big Wheel is a ridiculous event. Nominally, you somehow procure a big wheel, and ride it down a steep, twisty hill repeatedly. No rubber tires allowed.

In practice, though, people took anything and everything that could roll, slide, or be carried down, and had a blast while they were at it. I mean, there were plenty of mangled, store-bought big wheels, but people also brought homemade three-seaters, wheels attached to milk crates, an office chair, a water cooler, and a saucer sled.

Oh, and let's not forget our friend with the trashcan. He did an admirable job of wrangling it down the course without hitting things, or scooping up anyone else. Also, since trash cans don't have a steering wheel, he obviously needed some other way to occupy his free hand. And there you have it.

As trashcan dude demonstrates, most people steered either partially or completely by using their feet as outriggers. Some of the faster folks also used their hands (with gloves) on the ground. Of course, in many cases steering didn't happen at all until after folks bounced off of the curbs or off of each other.

Of course, you can only really rock a big wheel with a rockin' getup. Fortunately, the attendees knew this. Gumby? Check! Pokey? Check! Pair of Roman guards wearing armor, chain-mail, and tightey whiteys and sitting on Razor scooters? You betcha! (I'll simply describe the effect of watching one of these Roman characters "streaking" toward me while straddling a 3-inch-wide seat as "blinding.")

The crashes were pretty much continuous. People would sometimes crash and stop, but more often they'd crash, pick up a partner in crime, and keep hurtling down the course. I'm not sure what sort of steering technique the impromptu pair in the middle was using, but they very nearly gathered a third compatriot.

Oh, I should mention: the big wheels were pretty amazing, but a number of people went the extra mile in decorating their various steeds. For instance, the guy on the left with the overflowing beer had a sticker on the front of his ride that inspired the title for this post. That's right, Kix: step aside!

Another big wheel that I really enjoyed was ridden by what I can only describe as an NHRA Nun. I don't think she needs any extra explanation, so I'll just repeat the things she wrote on her big wheel: The Holy Trinity: Traction, Torque, & Tarmac. Take life by the handlebars! If you can read this, I just ran over you! I don't need drugs, I have a big wheel.

Keep on truckin', NHRA Nun.

Hey there, Bullwinkle! Clearly, though, Bullwinkle used a little too much of his "mighty moose muscle" in the moments leading up to this most stupendous failure.

Join us next time for "Bullwinkle falls flat on his butt" OR "Having a wheelie good time"!

It's a little known fact that the the Autobots have a relatively lax definition of "auto." In times of peace Optimus Prime sometimes goes cruising on 3 wheels instead of 10 or 18. It's a good thing there weren't any Decepticons in attendance…

Not all of the drivers were as calm and collected as Prime, however. I'm not exactly sure what was going on here, but it couldn't have been good. All told, though, the Team Gaucho Hot Wheels was among a small percentage of the vehicles that made it home in a relatively small number of pieces (possibly one; I don't know if the hood was attached before or not).

The end of this year's Bring Your Own Big Wheels seemed to arrive all to quickly. Despite that feeling, though, there was quite an incredible amount of carnage. Many of the big wheels were donated to a local fire station after the event which is likely going to pick through the rubble, find some still-working parts, and fix some new big wheels for local youth.

With any luck, the event will be back next year for more crazy Easter madness. And to borrow some fitting words from racecar (yes, it's a palindrome) driver Mario Andretti,
"If everything seems under control, you're not going fast enough."

Things I Puzzle Over: The Identity of a Bike

Well, I'm back from my break in posting, though I'm not sure what sort of posting rate I'll settle in at. I shot this photo at the arrival (in Boston) of a group of cyclists who were riding across the country on fixed-gears to raise awareness of, and to raise money to fund the research of, histiocytosis (see relevant blogs here, here, and here).

As far as hard-core goes, this ride was hard-core. Six of these guys did the following (and all of them did a subset of the following):

• 3,480 miles, with 135,000 feet of climbing…
• on fixed gears…
• with almost daily centuries and a couple double-century days…
• in a total of 28 days

As they say, Yowza.

As for the photo itself, I'm not quite sure how I snagged it, but I think it came out really well. Settings were 1/160s at f/7.1 and ISO800. I really like how the bike seems to capture some of the rider's personality. Which sort of brings me to what I've been puzzling over. Where does the personality or the identity of a bike reside?

I think of my bikes as very good friends, with whom I have a tremendously odd relationship. I ride the heck out of them, and when they need it, I spend hours taking care of them. I baby them — keeping them indoors year-round and being somewhat obsessive about their safety — so that when the rain and snow come, I can abuse them again.

And part of what I enjoy so much about them is that I've put so much time and effort into them. But another part seems to be some sort of identity, which is weird for the following reason: With a computer, at the very least, I can associate the identity of the machine with the data on it (I never reinstall machines). But with a bike, there is no data. It seems that there's nothing intrinsically part of a bike. Do I enjoy the company of the parts? The whole? And which parts can be exchanged without the whole becoming a completely different bike?

To use a more specific example, my fixed-gear has been through a lot. Since I originally built it, I've replaced both wheels, the chain, the seatpost, the fork, the frame, the headset, the stem, the pedals, and the bottom bracket. For those of you not counting, the only original parts left are the bars, and the crankset. But I still consider it The Fixed-Gear, and I would continue to, even if I replaced the bars and the crankset. And if I were to build another one to replace it, the new bike wouldn't be The Fixed-Gear; it would be something else.

I guess what I attribute the personality to is some sort of loose geneology related to having been part of The Fixed-Gear at some point — once some group of parts has that geneology, it can subsequently pass it along to other parts, and thus the bike as a whole has somewhere for its identity to sit. This conclusion leads to confusion, though. What if I were to use half of The Fixed-Gear's parts for one bike, and half for another bike? Personally, I think I'd consider neither of the two bikes to be the same as the original bike; perhaps they're offspring of some sort… Though if I didn't build that second bike, and had only reused one half of the parts, I'd think differently. Weird.

Anyway, this is puzzling-in-progress, for me. And as some of you may realize, it touches on a couple of the big issues in the philosophy of the mind. To conclude, though, here's a quote attributed to Kevin Allen, and an unrelated photo from Detroit airport (1/400s, f/4.5, ISO640):
Q: What did a Buddhist say to the hot dog vendor?
A: Make me one with everything.