Note: This post is part of the Donna G Project. This is written to and for my boys.
My junior year of college, I wrote a play and got it produced by the student theater club. The play was 80 minutes of bad dialogue, but then at the end, one of the main characters commits suicide. It ends with two monologues that were really good. And suddenly everybody forgot the terrible 80 minutes and thought it was a great play. I had girls crying afterwards. People were hugging me and telling me how beautiful a writer I was. It worked out really well.
My friends from high school came up for opening night and we had a big party at my house. And as I celebrated the success of my “brilliant” play, I was on a high like I’d never felt before. At that party it felt like a tuning fork was in my chest ringing ringing ringing until I couldn’t stand it.
“Let’s go streaking!” I yelled. Chief was in. Spider was in. I was already moving for the door.
I burst out into the cold air and was tearing my clothes off. Chief was behind me and I vaguely heard Spider somewhere, but once your clothes start coming off, especially your pants, the last thing you want to do it stand and wait, you want to move move move and that’s what I was doing. I burst down the sidewalk, buck naked and howling with exhilaration. It felt like my entire skin was ablaze with icy fire. It felt like frantic lightning bugs were crawling all over me. I ran down the street at full speed and finally – finally – that tuning fork in my chest was ringing out as loud as I needed it to. Finally, I got my ya-yas out.
GOD it was awesome.
I wrote another play that next year, and this one was way better. It also had some moments of intense violence, which the audience mistook for excellent playwriting, and again I was heaped with praise.
Again there was a party that night. Again, I streaked. This time it was expected. Actually….as I reflect back I think I may have written that second play just so I could streak again.
It was a better streak too.
This is the route of the first streak. It was short. It was a side street. Basically, the only people who saw me were the people who cam outside from the party.
Let’s compare that to Streak #2:
Let me break it down for you.
- This route went right through the main street of a college town on a Friday night. The sidewalk and bars were packed with people.
- The black line is the route taken by my brother and my friend Reef (who streaked with me). They went right down the center of the street.
- The green line is the route I took. I was fat and in bad shape. I was panting for air by the time we reached the corner, so to cut my route short I went on the sidewalk. I ran right past people, slapping fives as I ran by. Until…
- The “X” is where I had to stop. I doubled over and panted, desperately trying to catch my wind back. That is until I heard someone yelling:”Hey! Hey! Hey, you ain’t got no clothes on!”
In a panic, I took off running again.
And I’ll tell you – streaking is addictive. It’s a crazy high. I streaked downtown a few more times that spring. On graduation night we went and played 3 innings of naked wiffleball on the lawn of the college president’s house.
I moved to LA after college and one night I led a group of guys to put on ludicrous hats and streak the grocery store near my house.
I streaked a wedding reception a few years ago. I streaked a party in town just last summer.
And really, that’s the only point of this piece. I like streaking. I know a lot of other Donna G Project essays are sentimental and have deep meaning, this one really doesn’t. This is really just to let you guys know that I think streaking is fun as hell and I recommend it.
You get a crazy thrill, people FREAK out and tell you you’re a wild man – but you’re not doing anything harmful or dangerous at all. Honestly, I’m surprised it isn’t more common.
Plus, you’ll never run so fast in your life.
Oh yeah – 2 pieces of technical tips to wrap up.
- Stash your clothes somewhere safe. Some joker may try and hide them.
1A. If some joker does hide your clothes, go RIGHT AT THEM. They think they have the upper hand because you’re naked – but really YOU have the upper hand because you’re naked. Go right for that him and he’ll BEG you to take your clothes back. Jokers can’t stand to be next to a naked man.
- This is by far the most important tip: Wear your shoes when you streak. Don’t do it in bare feet. That’s the big one.