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  • Broward-Palm Beach New Times

    The Agent from Iran

    How a mother of two ended up in a plot to smuggle high-tech gear to the enemy.

    By Deirdra Funcheon

  • Westword

    Murder By Design

    In life and death, tattoo artist Kauri Tiyme made her mark.

    By Alan Prendergast

  • Village Voice

    My Brother the Slumlord

    Amy Neustein never could resist going public with her family dramas.

    By Elizabeth Dwoskin

  • Houston Press

    The Ghosts of Galveston

    A visit with the hurricane victims that a country forgot.

    By John Nova Lomax

Silent Sunday

By Clay McNear

Published on November 20, 2008 at 4:03am

There's nothing like being in a public place without the public. We've achieved this higher state of being twice, and we're not about to tell you where or how. Find your own deserted public crib to crash. As an example, take the Phoenix Zoo, a facility that's difficult to navigate under the most optimal conditions. You've got your crushing hordes of humanity on the hoof, baby strollers stretching to the horizon, and roving gangs of wild-eyed dipsticks screeching like howler monkeys. Grrr. But what if you could have the zoo all to yourself? Just you and the beasts, and to hell with the dipsticks? That's the premise of Silent Sunday, an alt-transportation-awareness event in which the Central Avenue entrance to South Mountain Park and Preserve is closed to Sunday drivers and other bothersome vehicular traffic. Wanna breathe some actual, real fresh air? Bike the curvaceous access road to the top of the range -- or zoom down all devil-may-care -- without the threat of being squashed or run off a cliff? Walk down the center stripe of a stretch of asphalt -- just 'cause you can? Whatever. It's your crib, man. Crash it.
Sun., Nov. 23, 5 a.m.-11 p.m.; Sun., Dec. 28, 5 a.m.-11 p.m., 2008