On Saturday, I trekked to the Art Museum because someone asked me to. It was Bianca from Geekadelphia who suggested I come.
I had seen her at the Ban All Nukes Generation (BANG) event showing of the 1983 classic War Games. War Games was a classic film of my childhood with the pre-Ferris, Matthew and pre- Breakfast Club, Ally.
But the main reason I was there was to see Bianca dressed as a Nukette- she had a lovely cardboard ICBM costume painted menacing black and red and black. I was fashionably late for the movie (15 minutes) and Bianca was unfashionably punctual so I missed her actually wearing the costume.
However, fear not, this nuclear bombshell was so kind to put up a You Tube video of herself and the costume.
So at the anti-nuke event, after the compelling discussion and the meaningful moment where the inevitable question was asked, “What next?” and after I signed up to be on the mailing list… Bianca told me there would be cardboard tube fighting at the Art Museum.
I did some research which entailed Googling the topic and I found a few posts. The first that came up from from my fellow co-blogger, Pop Culture Casualty, at One Fine Philly. That was pretty awesome to see. Then the City Paper had a nice blurb about it too. I got nervous when I read more about it in the official Cardboard Tube Fighting League website. Because there words like welts and bruises.
But I went because I thought beating people with tubes sounded like a good way to make friends. Which I did. Those of us in the “naked division” which meant without cardboard armor bonded during the duels. We cheered people we didn’t know like the guy in the khaki kilt chanting, “Kilty, kilty” and “black shirt guy.”
The ultimate winner of the bouts was of course, the mighty Comcast Building. She dominated every fight with her solid foundation and looming height.
At the end of the bestowing of the trophy to mighty Comcast, we had our final melee at the top of the Art Museum steps. As 75 of us charged up the steps, we could see a gathering of pink and purple up high on the stairs. It was a end fat discrimination demonstration. Dressed in sequins and hot pink leg warmers, the demonstrators held signs that said “Diets not riots.” So there was a moment of discomfort. Would the geeky fighters upstage the garish rioters. No, each side cheered the other on. And snapped pictures.
Afterward, me and my two friends, Russell and Katie who had formed a spontaneous cheering section went for a Wawa picnic in the park. Battle had made us famished.