 Last weekend the city of Austin, Texas played host to an annual event
known as the Republic of Texas Biker Rally. While locals and annual
participants refer to the rally as “ROT Weekend,” the term “biker
rally” is a bit of a misnomer for what this thing really is.
You see, true bikers are a very specific breed of person. They are
individuals that exist outside of society. They don’t necessarily have
what most people would call a job. Instead they have skill sets that
they use to acquire funds that are usually given to them in the form of
cash, under the table.
They don’t vote or have social security numbers. They have
underworld connections and skin that looks like suede that has been
left out in the rain. Bikers don’t have bank accounts and some look as
though they haven’t showered since the Clinton Administration.
They ride Harley Davidsons that are dirty, loud and some feature an onboard meth lab. Overall they’re a pretty good group of people and if you buy them a beer, they’ll warm up quite nicely.
Unfortunately they only account for about 25% of the visitors to the ROT Rally.
The other 75% is comprised of what can only be called “motorcycle enthusiasts.” People that work most of the year as oral surgeons and venture capitalists and had a spare $40,000 to spend on a motorcycle. They have and maintain things like 401Ks and “portfolios.”
Motorcycle enthusiasts have very clean and shiny motorcycles some of which have air conditioning and DVD players. As they ride these things, they scream phrases into cell phones such as, “Buy low! Sell high!” or “It’s on my desk with the Linderman account!”
Regardless, members from both of these groups load up by the thousands and come to our city every year about this time. They pour millions of dollars into the local economy and are for the most part just looking to have a good time and not to hurt anyone. The locals usually suffer the loud engines and crowded highways and understand that there won’t be any seats available at Hooter’s, the blues bars or the topless clubs.
I usually avoid the downtown area during the Rot Rally Weekend because it’s generally a hassle to get around or park. Plus it’s another of those events that my city is famous for that I like to refer to as Events That Make People Feel Like a Tourist in Their Own City. We’ve got lots of those.
But this year the comedy club where I started at and is located downtown was celebrating its 20th anniversary and I was one of the many people that had been invited to perform. When I got downtown and was amid the throngs of bikers and motorcycle enthusiasts alike, I noticed something strange.
Either by some cruel twist of fate or as a joke from the Schedule Gods, a Gay Pride Parade had been planned for the exact same time and location of the motorcycle rally.
Worlds seemed to collide as black-shirted hairy bikers sat at red lights next to flaming homosexuals wrapped from head to toe in rainbow-colored Lamé and eyed each other suspiciously. The Greasy Bearded Irresistible Force was crashing headlong into the Snappy Fabulous Immovable Object right before our eyes. I honestly couldn’t tell which group was more uncomfortable about the other. It was also Flag Day so many people were celebrating that as well.
Some people you could easily guess which parade they were there for. Others could have gone either way. My wife and I made a game of trying to guess the affiliation of different members of the revelry.
And that’s when we saw it.
The Eye of the Hurricane. The epicenter of the vortex that was swirling with skull tattoos and assless chaps. Rainbows and black leather began to coalesce into one giant bone-rattling flamboyant force as we took in what we saw next.
Two bull dyke lesbians with crew cuts on a huge Harley with a giant flag waving from the rear of the bike.
These girls looked really happy. Their faces were masks of ecstasy as they delighted in enjoying their three favorite things: lesbianism, America, and a big ass Harley roaring between their legs.
They were wearing the same smile that I would have were I to walk into an auditorium that was featuring three conventions simultaneously for porn, Star Trek trivia and Yankee Memorabilia.
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