I damn near chokes when Queerpants jumps the red light. But traffic just stops dead for him, brakes jammin' up and down the street for about a mile. He's headin' straight crosstown towards the river, it looks like, and I'm thinkin', damn, this I gotta see. But I can't figger no way to catch up with 'em. Then I see the traffic on the other side of the street is startin' to turn right in after the tail-end o' the mob. And the same thing starts on my side, ev'rybody tryin' to go down that side street at the same time. And ev'rybody punchin' their horns like crazy. About four cars down from where I'm standin', there's a taxi in the line. So, neat as you please, I goes down, opens his door and climbs in. The cabby don't even see me. In his mirror, I can see his face is red as a beet, and he's yellin' and cussin' and beatin' on his hornbutton. Well, I pulls the door shut and make myself comfy. Then, all of a sudden, we start movin'. As we cut around the corner, I see how we got our break--there's two cars locked bumpers in the other lane, holdin' up the whole line. Now we're goin' straight crosstown at a pretty good clip. At Amsterdam, we swing uptown, up a big hill, and when we get to the top, I can see the crowd still racing along like mad. Way uptown, somewhere near a Hundred and Twenty-fifth, we turn west, run down under the Express Highway, and end up in front of a beat-up old dock. There's hundreds of cars parked all over the place with their doors open and their engines runnin', and ev'rybody's racin' toward the river. My driver was out before the cab hardly stopped. It took me a little while to get out. Then I had to be real careful navigatin' that old wharf. It was full of holes and big cracks and piles of junk lyin' around. Slow goin'. I was pretty beat by the time I reached the mob near the end o' the wharf. They was two long lines of 'em, movin' along slow. Up ahead, they was all goin' up a big red ramp that went up into the air off the dock and into a great big thing that was hangin' in the air over the river. The thing looked like a big banana made outta glass. When I got nearer, I could see right into the thing. Inside it, there was a lotta little stalls, and people was all crowdin' into 'em, about four or five to a stall. As soon as they got in, a kinda door dropped down and I couldn't see no way that they could get out. But it didn't look like anybody was _tryin'_ to get out. There was a big round table in each stall, with a lotta food on 'em, and the people was standin' around just eatin' like pigs in a sty. All the time I was watchin', people kept pilin' into the thing, lookin' like they was singin' their heads off. Some was clappin' their hands and throwin' their arms around, like they was doin' some kinda dance. For about an hour, people kept marchin' up that ramp, until fin'ly the end of the line came, and they all got in--exceptin' the last one. A real skinny old man with a cane.