Saturday

The sun was warm. Good for a Saturday. I took the bike downtown. The air felt clean. The traffic was light on Spring Street.

I was heading for Grand Park. To sit. To do nothing. Legs felt good. Pedals turned easy.

Then I heard it. A low sound. A drum. Not music. Just a beat. Steady. Like a slow heart.

The street was blocked ahead. A wall of people. They filled the space in front of City Hall. They moved but did not move forward. A slow churn.

I stopped the bike. Put a foot down on the curb.

Then I saw it. Above the heads. A giant balloon. A man. Orange. He wore a diaper and held a small phone. It floated there. Swaying in the light wind. Big and strange against the hard lines of the buildings.

He looked familiar… I did not really care. But there were colors. Red flags moved around the orange man. Yellow signs. Two unicorns walked by. Their horns caught the sun. A man passed with a green inflatable frog on his shoulders.

People were smiling. Eating from food stands. It did not feel angry. It felt like a festival. A big, strange block party.

I saw a sign. “NO KINGS.” The letters were black and thick.

I watched for a time. The sun was on my back. The giant orange man bobbed in the sky. The curiosity passed. It was a small thing. A flicker. I had seen it. That was enough.

I turned the bike around. Pushed off from the curb. The drum sound faded behind me. The street opened up. I rode on. The day was still good.