At 11:55 p.m. Thursday, the zombies took over the streets.
Outside Irish Embassy Pub, a misguided driver attempted to breach Main Avenue.
All around him, they descended, with a Bride of Frankenstein warning the driver to come no farther with the palm of her pale hand.
The crowd, an estimated 1,500 to 2,000, formed a blob, engulfing the streets without intention, until Gandalf took the lead.
The wizard-like man, clad in an illuminated sorcerer’s hat, called himself Iesus the Wise.
He explained the tradition of the annual event.
“This represents freedom,” he said. “Where else can you go and run around in the middle of the road?”
Then they surged toward Starbucks, past deliberately staggered groups of police officers, yelling:
“Whose streets? Our streets!”
Unlike two years ago, when police made 22 arrests during the Zombie March, no arrests were made this year.
Durango police Capt. Dan Shry said participants have become more respectful, and officers have received training about how to deal with large crowds.
It was only after the march that police learned a window had been broken at Southwest Sound and a couple of items had been stolen.
Owner Robert Stapleton said a full can of beer was thrown through the window. Someone reached inside and snatched a Chewbacca mask and an Elvis Presley Day of the Dead figurine.
“Fortunately, they weren’t able to get into the store,” Stapleton said.
Having been victimized, Stapleton said the annual march has lost its charm.
“It’s degrading,” he said. “It’s not what it used to be. It used to be cool and fun, and now it’s just people taking advantage.”
Police did not set any time limit on the march; rather, they waited for participants to leave.
“We kind of wait and see what the temperament of the crowd is,” Shry said. “We don’t want to push them into a confrontation with police.”
Many celebrities attended. The famously elusive Waldo made multiple public appearances.
Alice in Wonderland, on the other hand, wasn’t in the parading mood. She told friends she was heading to El Rancho Tavern, where she looked forward to buying a drink unhampered by crowds.
Some people paraded sans costume, with many men improvising by grabbing their dates and hoisting them upon their shoulders, like an elaborate human headdress.
Meanwhile, an enormous cow wooed a disco fairy in the middle of the street. Her silver jacket and pink hair indicated she was usually beyond bovine reach, but in the spirit of the evening, she accepted the cow’s attentions gracefully.
Indeed, the night brimmed with bestiality: A penguin seemed to begin mating with a cowgirl outside the Durango Welcome Center. A bumblebee, his stinger visible from afar, attached himself to the face of a nurse; she did not appear allergic. A willing Dalmatian escorted Cruella de Ville many blocks, eager for petting.
Adjacent to the Welcome Center, a party broke out at Main’s 800 block, with several musicians jamming while a crowd gathered around them.
Despite the heaving crowd and the pervasive smell of pot, for 20 minutes, this band achieved magic: Lions, tigers and bears coalesced about them, pawing, bopping and meowing to their beat.
The band seemed a quintet; it called itself SoNar, and included an amplified keyboard, trumpet, saxophone, guitar and drum.
Keyboardist Chris Cooke said he was inspired to provide music after reading a quote he contributed last year to this newspaper.
He was quoted as saying, “There needs to be a song, and that song needs to be, ‘Whose streets? Our streets.’”
It led to the “Zombie Song,” with lyrics that include: “Pianos in the street lights .../cops are driving by/I think they’re going to lose it/we’re playing music.”
The band’s most attentive groupie was a blonde, who nodded emphatically with every note. Neither her hair color nor her gender seemed likely to last beyond the Zombie March.
Pirates were present; but they seemed content to let the party go on peacefully, and took no captives.
The night claimed its victims: By the parade’s end, one bunch of grapes said a quarter of her fruit – four purple balloons – had been mercilessly squashed.
As the crowd thinned from the delighted thousands to the dogged few, one fight broke out outside El Rancho, between an older man in camouflage cap and pants and a younger man in denim cutoff shorts and leopard-print tights. The leopard tights-wearer, though clearly the aggressor, had more friends, who impotently swarmed about them as they ineptly traded blows.
When the police intervened, all reported that the “other guy” initiated the altercation.
The man in leopard-print tights returned to El Rancho.
The man in camouflage asked the police if they wanted his ID.
One officer said no, he’d prefer it if the man left.
“Which way?” asked the man in camouflage.
The eight police officers, suddenly in their own parade, all pointed left.
At 12th Street and Main, the night ended with a willowy Grim Reaper glumly entering his silver Subaru Outback. Perhaps his night wasn’t over. Before putting his key in the ignition, he commenced texting.
Police declared streets clear by 1:03 a.m., and Main Avenue reopened to traffic.
“Overall, the event went well and ended well – which is our objective,” Shry said.
