It's 9:00 p.m. on a Friday night in downtown Appleton, Wisconsin, population about 70,000. Parents: do you know where your disaffected youth are? A red pickup truck with three teenagers in the cab and six shoehorned in the bed is seen pulling alongside a similar carload in a pinstriped Oldsmobile. Looks are exchanged. The adjacent sidewalks are also clustered with the younger set, occasionally disobeying city signs to keep all rumps off the flower planters. Amid a steady stream of traffic, surreptitious cigarettes are puffed while pimply pedestrians blatantly stare at their fellows in moving vehicles and vice versa. Yes, Virginia, Downtown Appleton is as congested as a middle school cafeteria line and twice as self-conscious.

What causes this strange nightly ritual to descend on this modest Midwest city center like a gawky vampire? Where do these young people come from who normally dutifully trudge the mall or operate fast food drive-through windows? Apparently the phenomenon sprung forth long ago, fully developed, like an aerodynamic Athena from her long-suffering father, Zeus', head.

Whether you call it cruising the strip, hanging out, riding around, or just going downtown, this Appleton institution occurs regularly each evening, weather permitting (and if someone can corral her dad's car) as it probably does in towns all over America. In fact, this occurrence is so regular, you could probably contact the Chamber of Commerce for hours of operation.

You have to give them credit though: today's Fox Valley youth have managed to keep alive an institution that was dead long before they were born. In the 1950' and 1960's, youth everywhere cruised around in hopped-up cars to the beat of a now tame-sounding Elvis. In spite of the year 2000 gas crisis, it nevertheless continues today with a vengeance to the rap beat of bands with numbers for names.

This faux serendipity created by teens is really just a search for new experiences in a reasonably controlled manner. Their point appears to be to keep boredom at bay while striving for the POSSIBILITY of making a romantic contact outside their immediate tribe, i.e., finding someone who doesn't know exactly what they looked like in the seventh grade. Should you wish to participate in this bohemian dance, you may either: 1) strategically stake out terra firma along the predestinated downtown route, loitering casually on the sidewalk with the geographic possessiveness of a bag lady; or 2) book passage on a truck, wagon, car, moped or rickshaw, and ride monotonously around and around the six or eight critical blocks (Richmond Avenue to Drew Street) for several hours. (Rinse and repeat.)

In either case, all participants must develop the knack for stealthily observing the status, gender, age, sexual preference, clothes, accessories, and general coolness of all human beings entering their immediate proximity. If you fancy cruising around the Fox Valley in style, be sure to don your slouchiest duds and get ready to meet the admiring (and not-so-admiring) glances from all you pass!...