First Friday in Fishtown is cause for celebration in and of itself. But falling as it does on the day I pay rent, it is the free music, beers and snacks that are the true siren’s call, beckoning me into the neighborhood after my bank account takes that monthly hit.

Thus far, all of my ventures into First Friday have been colored by a shadowy, clandestine feeling of getting away with something, accompanied by thoughts like, Do they know I can’t afford any of these pieces? or, Am I making appreciative enough faces at them? And, Is this an unreasonable amount of guacamole for one person?

These thoughts play in my mind at such a volume that only boozing and schmoozing can assuage them. As per the parameters of the assignment, I hit the town last month with no money in my pocket to see just how much fun could be had for free…

My evening begins with a false start: Many businesses list their First Friday start time as “4PM,” but I discover that it’s actually a loose, punk-rock-time 4PM and that several businesses have taken advantage of the listings in order to promote the simple fact of their existence. For this offense, I wish them ill.

So I stretch, stop by the NKCDC office (2513-15 Frankford Ave.) where they’re nice enough to print me out a map of events. I then walk from Lehigh to Girard, chip away at a crossword puzzle and attempt, unsuccessfully, to trade a hand-rolled cigarette for a small cup of coffee.

At 6PM, the evening actually begins as I make my way over to Bottle Bar East (1308 Frankford Ave.) where there’s a beer tasting courtesy of Saucony Creek from Kutztown. Laid out by the register are their pale ale, double pale ale, lager and porter, all of which are served in plastic shot glasses and unseasonably strong. Aside from this promotional kindness, it’s more or less business as usual.

After a glance at my handwritten list of First Friday participants, it’s off to Jinxed, whose oddities and curios I’ve always dug. Adorning the wall to the left of the entrance are paintings by local artist Sean 9 Lugo, most of which feature detailed, yet cartoon-like depictions of animal heads on the bodies of young people—complete with tattoos. One images is painted on a skateboard deck. Stickers featuring the art work are also up for grabs, I pick up a few along with a New Jersey Brewing Co. Pale Ale.

It then occurs to me that I’m starting to feel drunker than this amount of beer should warrant, realize that I haven’t eaten a decent meal in some time and attempt to rectify this with heavily seeded hummus on crackers. At around 6:40PM, a larger crowd makes its way in as I march onward. The sky is cotton-candy pink.

Five blocks later, I enter the Philadelphia Sculpture Gym (1834 Frankford Ave.) and have to use the little boys room before any sort of aesthetic impressions can kick in. The bare white walls of the warehouse space accentuate the minimalism of the pieces they house. I am transfixed by a coal-black bust of a faceless man in business clothes and wet-looking hair parted at a 7:3 ratio. With a can of Pabst from their cooler, I talk with Dominic D’Andrea about his concrete bowl and growler, which he tells me are part-sculpted, part-3D-printed and fully functional.

In the grass lot across from Circle of Hope (2009 Frankford Ave.), at around 7:50PM, I stumble across an Americana act who call themselves The Confirmation Bias Quartet. I get there just in time to catch their last song of haunting harmonies atop well-rehearsed,  string-quartet instrumentation. Post-applause, I invite them to play the warehouse venue where I live.

At Space 2033 (2033 Frankford Ave.), flames dance on unnecessary citronella candles as belly-dancers set up. The artwork is the most striking I have seen this evening, depicting heavily earth-toned fauns and fairies. Upon further inspection, what they’re doing is a celebration of Beltane, the Celtic pagan holiday which falls on May 1st and appeases nature spirits with a Springtime renewal of life. Just as the sky is fully darkened, six women in traditional Celtic garb with those jangly belts, of which I know not the name, begin to dance in unison. Their movements are slow, deliberate and in perfect lockstep. They chant wildly at seemingly random intervals throughout. Immediately following this is an absolutely mystifying fire-fan-dancer who is somehow both fluidly smooth and completely unpredictable.

Beltane festivities finish up at 8:15PM or so as I make my way over to what has come most highly recommended and what looked most appealing in my preliminary research—the First Friday party at Liberty Vintage Motorcycles (2212 Sepviva St.). It get there early, so I stand by a fire, warm my bones, and head to Fjord where glitchy 8-bit images are shot from projectors and a short umbrella is stood up in a brick. After trading a hand-rolled cigarette for a Philadelphia Pale Ale, I bring it back to Liberty Vintage, where a drummer is warming up.

To give a general sense of what occurred next in as few words as possible, the following quotes are excerpted from my notes, taken in real time:

“9:38 – A very loud drunk man in his sixties breathes fire as a band plugs in.”

“9:58 – In a hangar full of helicopters, planes and motorcycles, The Howling Fantods play tightly, passionately and are able to communicate some serious rock ‘n roll glory. I begin to feel dehydrated and pour myself a beer from a keg of Natural Light, which is more or less water anyway.”

I sit and chat with people by the fireside bright, bikers and First-Friday-revelers alike. A band called Explosive Head begins to play as stunningly beautiful women from Cotton Candy Circus Arts perform with a hula-hoop, a trapeze and an aerial silk, respectively. Explosive Head delivers dirty, heavy, bluesy rock with such aplomb that my head does not stop banging. My notes for this part are illegibly written in a shaky hand, but I am able to make out the words “Holy shit.”

“11:00 – A young man in a red leather jacket and clown paint uses an angle grinder to blow sparks into his own face and the crowd during the song “Rock ‘n’ Roll Pussy.” A fight breaks out and is quickly resolved.”

“11:07 – A hula-hoop dancer kicks me off of the forklift.”

My night continues with activities until 12:30AM or so, the details of which shouldn’t be disclosed here. For as much as I had gotten to experience, it was only a fraction of what First Friday had to offer—artistically, and alcoholically. Regardless, this tradition has helped me, as it has so many others, to shake up my brain with wild art and get to know some of my neighbors amidst  the atmosphere of a large-scale party. As for the advice-ready wisdom gained, talk to everyone and bring along some water.