This story involves a murder at the Folsom Street Leather and Fetish Fair, an annual event occuring in San Francisco in late September.  A huge event, Folsom Street brings a crowd of more than 200,000 people to the South of Market area. (Basically, the story lets me string together as many leather/fetish jokes as I want.)      I averted my eyes from the negligible amount of leather Ron was wearing.      “Do you realize that it’s only 60 degrees out there?” I asked.      “Do y’ realize Ah’m gonna wear chaps an’ a t-shirt?” he replied.      The t-shirt was white with a slogan printed in black: “UNLEASH THE QUEEN.”  The first two letters had a slash of red striking them out.      “Latte,” the counter girl repeated.   “Low fat, and was that no whip?”      “Hon,” Ron said.   “Look at what Ah’m wearin’.   Dressed in a leather harness and crotchless chaps, it ain’t never ‘No whip.’”      It wasn’t very long before we saw a guy wearing what looked to me like a leather ski mask, but which Ron called a “hood,” being led on a chain.      Ron and Val tried to explain it to me in terms of power dichotomies and surrender of control, but Tam termed it “The Ultimate Bad Hair Day.”      “Bob, this is Marc,” Val said, introducing me.      “Are you in police work, too?” I asked as I shook his hand, making a dual connection between Val knowing him and the SWAT baseball cap Bob was wearing.      “Mark, huh?” said Bob, shaking my hand.  “Nice name.”      “Bob’s into spanking,” Val said.      We passed booth after booth selling food: gyros, lumpia, falafel, satay, Polish sausages, Philadelphia cheesesteak, tofu burritos, fresh squeezed organic fruit juices, frozen yogurt, beer, beer, beer,...      “Buffalo?” I asked, pointing to one.      “Tastes like chicken,” Ron replied.      “Beer booth, beer booth, beer booth.  Don’t they sell anything else at these street fairs?” I asked.      “You’re the Sondheim fan,” Ron said.  “You figure it out.”      “Huh?”      “Sweeney Todd,” he hinted.  “And sex.  ‘Ev’rybody goes down well with beer.’”      As we approached the entrance to the fair, we were accosted by some small-minded, allegedly Christian protestors.      “What would Jesus do?!  What would Jesus do?!” they chanted.  One got right in my face.      “He’d probably storm into your church, throw a temper tantrum, and commit acts of vandalism by tipping over all the tables and scattering stuff everywhere,” I said.  “Want to discuss His views on alcohol and prostitution?”   Click here to return to the main Signature Quotes page Click here to return to the main Missing Lynx page
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