Saturday was Zombie Walk, or as I like to call it the Undead Pride Parade, or as I also like to call it, the Death March. Lani, Selina and I got tarted up, corpse-style, and walked down to Flugtag where we confused the onlookers amongst a panoply of corporate whoring. Then we walked to the art gallery where the zombie concentration rose steadily with each passing minute. We met up with Taytay and Lin, and also saw Rowan, Sam and Duncan. The march started and, much like Critical Mass, there was no set route organized. The people at the front went where they wanted and the rest of the zombie mob followed, blocking traffic, running red lights (or more properly, shambling red lights), and molesting tour buses, to the delight and confusion of passengers. I pity the fool who doesn’t live in the city, those guys really missed out.

I didn’t hear about this the day of, but apparently one zombie got hit by a knob in a car who continued to try to plow through the mob. Idiotic, especially since of the group involved (I estimate around 200 people) at least half of them had cameras. He was reported to the police and was dealt with.

Unfortunately, part of dressing up as a zombie involves wearing clothes that you don’t mind getting ‘bloody.’ As such, I wore some ratty Cons that needed throwing away. I didn’t realize how much they needed throwing away, but I sure do now. My feet and calves are killing me, to the point that I’m limping slightly. How ironic that my limp was an affectation for the zombie walk, and now I can’t help it.