In its campaign against the stadium, the neighborhood has come of age. Dragons, this one inhabited by Alexandra Anastassiades, led Chinatown's Autumn Moon Festival, where the subtext was stadium opposition. At 10th and Race Streets, a corner fragrant with garlic and ginger from the open doors of restaurants, a crash-bang cacophony fills the narrow corridor. Teens slam cymbals and thump big drums on wheels, leading a trio of lion dancers under the Chinatown arch.
Police hold back cars as the bobbing lions pass by.
Toddlers in strollers cover their ears. At Cherry Street, the noisy parade merges with more cymbal players, more drummers, gongs, and a centipede of performers in a dragon costume. It's the sound of a city neighborhood, an urban rhythm as insistent as hip-hop, with roots half a world away. On this September night, hundreds crowd the sidewalk for the Autumn Moon Festival. There are grannies chattering in Cantonese, Asian teens in muscle shirts, families from the suburbs, even some white mothers with daughters adopted from China, dressed for the occasion in brocade dresses.