A car full of partiers from Capitol Hill tell me the Belltown bash they're headed to will get interesting as soon as the hallucinogens they've taken kick in. I need the cake. The whole cab busts out in riotous laughter. At midnight, the street party in front of Pike Place Market burns its bridge to the 21st century, setting off skyrockets and firecrackers. The police have vanished.
Young men dance in the flames, setting fire to their shoes and pantcuffs.
A woman beats out one man's flaming sneaker with her handbag. A few minutes after midnight, the streetlights blink out, but come back on. A couple in formal evening dress stand, immaculate, in the rowdy circle closest to the fire. Free speech isn't always political. And indeed, it felt like while the rest of the populace stayed in bars or at home at parties or in front of the TV, here was the actual city.