On Feb. 9, 2004, I attended the annual World International Motorcycle Show with the same high expectations one might carry into a NASCAR event, WWF wrestling, or a monster-truck bash. I knew what I wanted to see, and I knew who I wanted to be surrounded by. I dreamt of crowds of bearded men in black leather chaps, older women with confederate flag tank-tops and fake-breasted women displaying their thongs and the newest hot rods in one fell swoop.

It appears that I was not the only one with these aspirations showing up at the motorcycle show. A slew of decidedly non-trashy onlookers took up quite a lot of space at the event, and I blended right into the crowd. In fact, it seemed we nearly outnumbered the people that we had come to see. I had failed to take into consideration that a convention, even a motorcycle convention, is still a convention: An event that families flock to in order to spend quality time together, even if the main attraction is the other spectators. next >>