Beach bums greet riders on Amtrak
After many moons, the annual event shines on its silver anniversary.By JAMES B. KELLEHER
The Orange County RegisterJuly 11 - LAGUNA NIGUEL - The West Side Cruisers, an O.C.-based motorcycle club, were parked on the side of Camino Capistrano Saturday, enjoying what looked like a block party, when the call went through the crowd like a shot.
"Train!"
As one, the West Siders legged it toward the railroad tracks that form Camino Capistrano's western boundary. But Jody Maxwell, a 48-year- old West Sider wearing a coconut brassiere on the outside of her T-shirt, was out in front, looking determined.
When Maxwell hit the fence in front of the tracks, she turned to face the street, pulled her jeans six inches below her waist, bent over, pressed her backside against the chain link and mooned the passing northbound Amtrak train.
"I missed the train last year," Maxwell said later, looking pleased, "so I mooned a truck instead. I mean, I had to moon something."
TAILs AND RAILS TURNS 25
Maxwell was among the more than 1,000 people who turned out Saturday for the 25th annual celebration of an Orange County tradition: From morning till night on the second Saturday of every July, free-spirited locals gather outside the Crown Valley Business Park to drop trou and wave at the passing trains.
It's not as storied as the swallows returning to Capistrano, or as cultural as the Pageant of the Masters. But at 25, the event has officially passed from bizarre local fad into something venerable.
It manages to bring a large, remarkably diverse group of people together, from Danny Villegas, an air-conditioning technician from Torrance, to Sharon Pulham, a clinical psychologist from Rancho Santa Margarita.
Pulham, who has worked with the terminally ill, said that her hospice experiences taught her "that people take things too seriously." Dropping trou, Pulham said as she prepared for her debut moon, would be "a great stress buster" after a tough week.
As Villegas, who calls the event "Mardi Gras in O.C.," waited for another train to pass Saturday, he remembered something odd that happened during his debut last July.
"When I mooned last year," Villegas said, "the train seemed to swerve a little on the tracks." His co-worker Don Haberfield offered a possible explanation.
"That's because all the passengers were running to the other side."
BET BECOMES TRADITION
The tradition began in 1979 with a bet. K.T. Smith, a regular at a nearby bar called Mugs Away Saloon, offered to buy drinks for anyone who ran outside to the railroad tracks and "mooned" the next train. There were many more takers than he expected; an alcohol-lubricated ritual was born.
The event, sponsored by no one these days but indulged by everyone from the city of Laguna Niguel to Amtrak itself, is wonderful if only because it turns the stereotype about Orange County on its head.
In a county often caricatured as a dead zone of master-planned conformity, the mooning is a deliriously unorganized, R-rated miracle.
On Saturday, as the day wore on and the temperature rose to near 90 and the alcohol flowed, things got progressively rowdier. But there were no reports of any major problems or arrests, in keeping with the event's remarkable history.
"It's a pretty good-natured crowd," said Lt. Linda Spreine, the chief of police services for Laguna Niguel.
'it was excellent'
As Jody Maxwell raced to the fence Saturday with resolve, Jason Ibanez, a 21-year-old student at San Diego State University, was in Oceanside, waiting to board Amtrak 571 to Los Angeles.
Though the trip was his first on Amtrak, Ibanez figured he'd get bored, so he brought along a book, Víctor E. Villaseñor's "Rain of Gold," to pass the time.
By the time Amtrak 571 rolled out of San Juan Capistrano station, Ibanez was fidgety and playing songs on his cell phone.
As the train passed into Laguna Niguel, the quiet of Ibanez's coach was suddenly broken by cries of disbelief - and delight - from his fellow passengers, who were out of their seats and staring down at the chain link fence to their right.
When Ibanez joined them, he had trouble understanding what he was seeing.
"It was like a slap in the face - but in a cool way," Ibanez said. "It was excellent. I'll never forget this trip!
After many moons, the annual event shines on its silver anniversary.By JAMES B. KELLEHER
The Orange County RegisterJuly 11 - LAGUNA NIGUEL - The West Side Cruisers, an O.C.-based motorcycle club, were parked on the side of Camino Capistrano Saturday, enjoying what looked like a block party, when the call went through the crowd like a shot.
"Train!"
As one, the West Siders legged it toward the railroad tracks that form Camino Capistrano's western boundary. But Jody Maxwell, a 48-year- old West Sider wearing a coconut brassiere on the outside of her T-shirt, was out in front, looking determined.
When Maxwell hit the fence in front of the tracks, she turned to face the street, pulled her jeans six inches below her waist, bent over, pressed her backside against the chain link and mooned the passing northbound Amtrak train.
"I missed the train last year," Maxwell said later, looking pleased, "so I mooned a truck instead. I mean, I had to moon something."
TAILs AND RAILS TURNS 25
Maxwell was among the more than 1,000 people who turned out Saturday for the 25th annual celebration of an Orange County tradition: From morning till night on the second Saturday of every July, free-spirited locals gather outside the Crown Valley Business Park to drop trou and wave at the passing trains.
It's not as storied as the swallows returning to Capistrano, or as cultural as the Pageant of the Masters. But at 25, the event has officially passed from bizarre local fad into something venerable.
It manages to bring a large, remarkably diverse group of people together, from Danny Villegas, an air-conditioning technician from Torrance, to Sharon Pulham, a clinical psychologist from Rancho Santa Margarita.
Pulham, who has worked with the terminally ill, said that her hospice experiences taught her "that people take things too seriously." Dropping trou, Pulham said as she prepared for her debut moon, would be "a great stress buster" after a tough week.
As Villegas, who calls the event "Mardi Gras in O.C.," waited for another train to pass Saturday, he remembered something odd that happened during his debut last July.
"When I mooned last year," Villegas said, "the train seemed to swerve a little on the tracks." His co-worker Don Haberfield offered a possible explanation.
"That's because all the passengers were running to the other side."
BET BECOMES TRADITION
The tradition began in 1979 with a bet. K.T. Smith, a regular at a nearby bar called Mugs Away Saloon, offered to buy drinks for anyone who ran outside to the railroad tracks and "mooned" the next train. There were many more takers than he expected; an alcohol-lubricated ritual was born.
The event, sponsored by no one these days but indulged by everyone from the city of Laguna Niguel to Amtrak itself, is wonderful if only because it turns the stereotype about Orange County on its head.
In a county often caricatured as a dead zone of master-planned conformity, the mooning is a deliriously unorganized, R-rated miracle.
On Saturday, as the day wore on and the temperature rose to near 90 and the alcohol flowed, things got progressively rowdier. But there were no reports of any major problems or arrests, in keeping with the event's remarkable history.
"It's a pretty good-natured crowd," said Lt. Linda Spreine, the chief of police services for Laguna Niguel.
'it was excellent'
As Jody Maxwell raced to the fence Saturday with resolve, Jason Ibanez, a 21-year-old student at San Diego State University, was in Oceanside, waiting to board Amtrak 571 to Los Angeles.
Though the trip was his first on Amtrak, Ibanez figured he'd get bored, so he brought along a book, Víctor E. Villaseñor's "Rain of Gold," to pass the time.
By the time Amtrak 571 rolled out of San Juan Capistrano station, Ibanez was fidgety and playing songs on his cell phone.
As the train passed into Laguna Niguel, the quiet of Ibanez's coach was suddenly broken by cries of disbelief - and delight - from his fellow passengers, who were out of their seats and staring down at the chain link fence to their right.
When Ibanez joined them, he had trouble understanding what he was seeing.
"It was like a slap in the face - but in a cool way," Ibanez said. "It was excellent. I'll never forget this trip!
