For me, the most important component of First Fridays is the atmosphere. Particularly as the night progresses, there's a feeling of youthful expression and experimentation—art and independence everywhere. Creativity seems to feed off of itself and things get progressively more crazy the later you stay.
Case in point: impromptu break dancing ring—
also, guy with flaming staff—
Sheriff Joe hatin'—
It was cold enough to warrant a light over shirt—wintery enough for Phoenix residents. Vendors pleaded, "last chance for holiday gifts" and the like. January should be colder, though I'm starting to doubt the weather's ability to change at this point.
There was also an incident with two, flannel-obsessed girls, possibly wasted, who seemed friendly enough until they suddenly flipped shit on my friend for giving them "that look." Good times.
No comments:
Post a Comment