There were at least 500 of them, wearing angel wings, rubber tentacles, Girl Scout uniforms and other costumes. But in a city where freakish exhibitionism is as about as original as saying you're working on a screenplay, the more startling sight was seeing everyone pedaling a bicycle.
The cyclists commandeered three westbound lanes on Sunset Boulevard in Silver Lake late Friday night, forming a convoy a quarter-mile long.
The absurdity of the scene drew people out of bars, restaurants and even a hookah parlor. For a moment, it was as though the electricity had been shut off in Los Angeles and the streets had come alive with people wondering where the cars had gone.
"Is this an AIDS benefit ride?" asked Luis Romo.
Not at all. Unlike the AIDS/LifeCycle, an annual charity ride from San Francisco to Los Angeles that ended Saturday, this ride was staged solely in the name of senseless fun.
Named Midnight Ridazz, the monthly gathering of cyclists is a chance to pedal through L.A.'s busy streets with blissful abandon. Call it a mobile fete. A rave on wheels sans the pounding beat. The year-old event is equal parts Dadaism, pro-environmentalism and anti-car culture.
"We're here to take back the streets," said second-time rider Beverly Lorenz, one of those not in costume.
And that's what they did, for the most part, on the 26-mile route that started in Echo Park and ended at a house party near Crenshaw and Adams boulevards. Along the way, the cyclists dodged cars, confronted angry drivers and made frequent stops at mini-marts, bars and eateries.
"I think the point here is, get out of your car," said Emil Warren, a 34-year-old welder for Warner Bros. studios. "Riding a bike is great. There's a camaraderie tonight. Nobody is out to cause any problems."
Following last month's prom-themed ride in which participants donned poufy dresses and tuxedos, this weekend brought "bike cult."
The man sporting rubber tentacles and carrying a television on the back of his bike is Jimmy Lizama, Midnight Ridazz's chief organizer and high priest for the evening. He initiated the tour shortly after 10 p.m. by climbing onto a garbage bin behind a fast-food restaurant and using a bullhorn to address the riders -- some in faux biohazard-safe jumpsuits, some in three-piece pinstripe suits and others in shorts and T-shirts.
"Now, children, it is time we depart to the UFO," Lizama said, eliciting a broad cheer from the crowd, who were more than happy to play along, perhaps due in part to canned beverages wrapped in brown bags that some were sipping.
Lizama was wearing a chrome-colored suit consisting of old bike tires that made him look like the Predator, an alien monster Gov. Arnold Schwarzenegger once battled on the silver screen.
After a mock pagan ceremony at Echo Lake, the riders cruised by the Angelus Temple, drawing whimsical stares, and attracted puzzled looks from those leaving the Church of Scientology building on Sunset Boulevard.
The excitement was palpable, akin to breaking the law and getting away with it, though the only visible crime committed early in the ride was the lack of mounted bicycle lights. Crossing over the Hollywood Freeway and stopping for a break had the feeling of stepping off the Pirates of the Caribbean midway through the ride to examine the sets.
"It's a whole new perspective of L.A.," said Jordan Kurt, a 19-year-old Brown University student who wore a steel World War II G.I. helmet. "I've never walked down Sunset before."
Just then, in what would be repeated several times over, a driver in a low-rider activated his hydraulic system, bouncing for the cheering band of cyclists on Schwinns, Huffys and vintage junkers.
Then it was off to Hollywood, where bemused residents leaned out of their windows to catch the commotion.
"Where are you going?" asked someone leaving a video store.
"On a bike ride," a cyclist replied.
"How far?" the pedestrian asked.
"As far as the wheels take us," the bicyclist said before vanishing into the crisp air.
The level of goodwill from onlookers seemed to descend the same way the avenues did -- downhill from north to south.
On Hillhurst Avenue and Sunset, drivers rolled down their windows and kindly asked the cyclists what was going on.
By Santa Monica Boulevard and Western Avenue, some drivers got upset as streams of cyclists poured through the intersection, ignoring red lights. One cyclist was questioned by police, apparently for holding up traffic, according to a friend.
Only a mile north, drivers had been smiling and honking their horns; now they were weaving around the bikers like a real-life video game.
One man driving a pickup truck at the corner of Wilton Place and La Mirada Avenue became angry when he had to wait too long to make a left turn. He edged into the street, forcing some riders to swerve and fall off their bikes.
