But there are acrobats. Sometimes they are acrobats with hula hoops and boomboxes and lots of hippie lycra (if you don't know what that is, you obviously haven't spent enough time in San Francisco), and sometimes they are homoerotic dudes who wrestle and throw each other around in a skilled manner. On Friday this latter group was also smashing each other into bed of empty PBR tallboys.
And then! On Saturday! There was a man in a poofy blouse! And a chick with a six pack and visible thong! And they were acrobats!
When we first sat down next to them, they looked like a normal couple. They were cuddled up and reading Spanish poetry to each other. Fine. But then the guy laid on his back and put his feet up, and then the girl placed herself and all her weight on his feet, from whence she did not descend for a long long time. It looked like this.
He kind of lazily twirled her around in the air, all while reading Spanish poetry in his man-blouse and capris. Occasionally they would do some kind of complicated shift-around trick thing, and at one point a guy with his camera phone ran up to them to take pictures. He had an absolutely epic plumber butt, and one of his friends ran up to take a photo of him.
So, of course, I took a photo of them all. It looked like this.
Check out that ass crack! Eventually the butt hubbub subsided and the couple went back to their romantic acrobat poetry reading in peace.
Eventually, though, a small man went up to the couple and apparently asked if he might be held aloft. In my mind he tapped the lady acrobat on the shoulder (or six pack) and asked, "May I cut in?" And the couple obliged. It looked like this.
You may be asking, "Surely that is not the acrobat lady that is taking a picture of her lover man holding aloft a small hipster?" But it is, my friend. It is. She also photographed them later, when the small man gave the blousey man a massage that made even the crackheads and the can collectors uncomfortable.
Oh, the glories of a weekend in Dolores Park.