Despite feeling that I know certain Harlemites quite well from reading their blogs, I've never actually met the authors. So what would meeting them in real life be like? Easy. A non-stop roller-coaster thrill-ride pitting cyclist against runner against dog owner against photography enthusiast against chronicler, as exemplified by this imagined scenario, written for easy film adaptation:
DANGER HILL
Cast:
Me, Harlem Fur, played by Leonardo DiCaprio
Berry, UPTOWNflavor, played by a mysterious person seen only from the back of her chair
Lance, Harlem 26.2, played by Mario Van Peebles
Corris & Roxie, Rex in tha City, played by Halle Berry (Corris) and Roxie (Roxie)
Joe, What About The Plastic Animals, played by Jeremy Irons
First scene, character development: It's a great summer Saturday morning, not too hot, and not too humid. Not a cloud in the sky. A montage of all of us in our own apartments turning off alarms and performing morning routines delights the viewers. I'm putting on spandex and pumping up my tires, Lance is stretching and putting on running shorts, Roxie is bouncing around playfully as Corris picks up the leash, Joe is loading a 2MB card into his camera, and then seven more in pockets on his shoulder strap, and Berry is hammering out 72 posts in less than thirty seconds about absolutely every event in Harlem that week, some of which even the event holders themselves don't yet know exist.
Next scene, lead up: We all pass thru our respective front doors. Each of us turns up and looks to the sky before heading for Central Park. We see nothing but pure blue. All of us except Joe that is. He steps out to see a very localized formation of the rare cloud type Cumulo Mammatus (foreshadowing!!!) and proceeds to follow it in the direction of Central Park's Northwest corner.
The action scene: Unaware of each other, we all find ourselves on the Northwest turn of the Central Park loop, a steep incline leading to the great hill. I am determined to keep my cycle's speed above 20 mph, Lance is attacking a set of hill repeats, Joe is chasing the Cumulo Mammatus cloud with camera at the ready, and Roxie has just been let free of her leash and is bounding up to the Dog-apalooza that takes place weekend mornings on Central Park's Great Hill. (If you have a dog, I highly recommend it. Be there before 9am, and your dog can run off leash with tons of other pooch friends.)
As the cloud passes over a tree near the loop, a squirrel uses the momentary darkness as cover in an attempt to run across the road. Roxie sees the squirrel and darts dog-like after it, right into my path! I swerve to miss Roxie, and ram directly into Lance. We roll across the pavement, a mangling mess of skin, spandex, carbon tubing and sweat wicking material.
We then stand facing each other, nether caring about putting Bacitracin on our skinned knees and elbows. The smell of protein dietary products radiates off of our skin. "You, recklessly fast cyclist, are responsible for this," screams Lance. "No you, runner, brought this on by using less physics than I," I retort. We each run straight at the other, and in the last moment, I spring from the platform on my clip-less pedals as Lance springs from a pair of New Balance that are actually made in the US. We each launch a roundhouse kick on the other, whose simultaneous collision leaves Lance and I sprawled on the ground.
"Why don't you ladies get a room," says a jackass teenager standing nearby.
Then Roxie playfully trots past. "The dog is responsible!" we shout in unison. Lance and I turn, ready to unleash a biathlon of force on Corris.
Corris sees us, drops to one knee, and in a single, smooth move pulls a personal-sized can of CS tear gas from her purse. The last thing that I remember before the hot flow cascades across our eyes is Corris' pink dog charm on the can. I think "Wow, that's cute. I wonder if they make a cat version I could get Cheryl." In the next moment, Lance and I are writhing on the tarmac, screaming and clutching our eyes.
"I should snap a photo of this," says Joe, who was standing alongside the action taking considered photos of the cloud. "I could put this on my blog."
Blog? The spray clears from our eyes. Roxie stands at attention. Like a chorus from a Hrotswitha play, Lance, Corris and I all sing "You will put this on your blog?" Joe responds, "Yes, I will put this on my blog." And we retort, "We also have blogs. We will put this on our blogs!"
The cloud disappears.
Last scene, the resolution: Despite our unified intentions to put the event on our blogs right away, Berry somehow finds out about what happened (even before it was done!) and writes about it on UPTOWNflavor. To be kind, she links to each of us.
Berry's post gets picked up by Gothamist, and with the increased site traffic to her blog, which is linked to our blogs, we all buy Lamborghinis using the storm of resulting Google Ad revenue.
Fin.
Of course, I see this being such a hit, that we franchise the thing. In the next film, the five hero bloggers have started the Uptown Lamborghini Club. One night, we get all hyper off of Swiss Miss Cocoa and Joe convinces us to drive to see the World's Largest Ball of Sisal Twine in Cawker City, Kansas, resulting non-stop cross country hilarity.