spinning a wheel of booze or wrestling opponents into sex positions). Friendly sabotage, vandalism and playful bribery between teams are fully encouraged. There are few rules and no set course. And nobody’s attempting to cross the finish line first. The Phoenix Idiotarod is the zaniest event in Arizona — certainly one of its most deranged — and offers the right amount of wrong. It’s like if “Supermarket Sweep,” “Double Dare” and “Jackass” had a drunken Technicolor orgy in the middle of First Friday. Phoenix resident Jessi Sheridan, competing in her fourth Idiotarod in 2025, loves the race. The Mohawked plumbing supply warehouse employee has previ- ously been on teams inspired by garden gnomes, hair metal bands and the Morton’s Salt girl. This year, her crew is all about “Alice,” the ‘80s sitcom set (and partially filmed) in Phoenix. They’ll build a minia- ture Mel’s Diner sign for their cart and fling grilled cheese sandwiches at opponents. “It’s different from anything else,” she says. “It was something outside of my wheelhouse and I absolutely fell in love. Everyone involved is super-creative, it’s inclusive and it’s just a fucking good time.” Despite the passion of regulars like Sheridan and Vaughn, this year’s Phoenix Idiotarod almost didn’t happen. Chromatest J. Pantsmaker, the race’s co-founder and longtime organizer, decided last year that he was stepping down, without a replacement. But Phoenix Idiotarod got a last-minute reprieve when Tara Bingdazzo, a race volunteer and previous participant, agreed to take over. She intends to run an upstanding event. For one, she hopes to encourage new participants. Bingdazzo says two teams who debuted last year consisted of 21-year-olds who’d waited for years to compete in an Idiotarod, a trend she wants to encourage. “They were so excited to finally get to race with us,” Bingdazzo says. “There’s like an old-school, traditional group of people that have done this for the last many years and we need to conjure up fresh blood, like new younger people to participate.” This year, she says, the race should look like its familiar self. In the future, she wants to amplify the event’s charitable aspects. That could mean adding fund- raising and sponsors, with all the unknowns those groups tend to bring to a ribald, booze-soaked blowout. Phoenix Idiotarod participants are just hoping she keeps the race alive. ‘The sheer idiocy of it is a competition’ Why do people participate in the Phoenix Idiotarod? Depends on who you’re asking. The short, and most common, answers: It’s gloriously unhinged and makes our city a more interesting place. It’s also why Pantsmaker and Chris Lykins, a local otolaryngologist, imported the race to the Valley in 2007. Both were commiserating over a lack of lively coun- tercultural activities around town and decided to make their own fun. “Phoenix was dead,” Lykins told New Times in 2020. “Everyone bitched about nothing happening here. I’m like, ‘Let’s just bring stuff here.’” A Stanford student named Tommy Kramer first launched the Idiotarod concept in San Francisco in 1994, and people in more than a dozen cities around the continent have run their own versions. When Pantsmaker and Lykins adapted the race to downtown Phoenix, they kept the original concept and its vital outlandishness. Bingdazzo says half the fun of Idiotarod is seeing what participants and organizers dream up each year, from the themes to the challenges. “It’s not just five people with a shopping cart racing around and getting drunk. It’s really become a way to showcase their creativity,” Bingdazzo says. “The sheer idiocy of it is a competition in and of itself. People are competing to see who can come up with the most idiotic thing.” It’s worth noting there’s heavy cross- over between Phoenix Idiotarod partici- pants and the local Burning Man regulars, two communities that celebrate relentless creativity and warped senses of humor. As a result, Idiotarod carts here skew wacky — and sometimes really fucking weird — as do the challenges at race checkpoints (more on that in a second). At one of the first races, a team made their cart look like a mobile abortion clinic. Other years have seen teams build giant toilets or dress in penis costumes. When the Costa Concordia cruise liner wrecked in 2012, killing 32 passengers, one Idiotarod team satirized the disaster the following year with their cart. Things have toned down in recent years. Teams tend to tap into nostalgia instead of their inner 12-year-old. Memorable throwback teams over the years have included mock-ups of X-Wings, the original USS Enterprise or the interga- lactic Winnebago from “Spaceballs”. Duane Freeman has done more of the latter. The 46-year-old therapist and former improv comedian has participated in Idiotarods since 2008, first in Chicago and then Phoenix. He bubbles as he explains how his teams have transformed carts into Daniel LaRusso’s shower costume in “The Karate Kid” and the ThunderTank from “Thundercats.” This year, they’re doing “The Oregon Trail,” the beloved educational computer game of grade-school computer labs every- where. Freeman says the group are still deciding who has the honor of dying from dysentery. “We turn into kids again when talking about building the cart and all the fun things we want to do,” Freeman says. “It’s funny to hear us on the phone, like ‘What the fuck is wrong with us? Why are we this giddy about something that we’re probably too old to be doing?’” ‘Nobody takes themselves all that seriously’ While Freeman’s teams have generally kept their carts PG, he admits getting a chuckle out of Phoenix Idiotarod’s often- twisted challenges at checkpoints. Some are harmless fun — picture Freddie Mercury-impersonation contests or riding tricycles through obstacle courses. Others are more risque, like “cockfighting” battles involving knocking an inflatable penis off an opponent without using their hands. Then, of course, there was the challenge inspired by “The Human Centipede.” “We were all in large underwear that was connected together and we had crawl across the ground to eat pudding,” he says. “That was clearly pre-COVID.” Freeman says an open mind and anything-goes attitude are prerequisite to handling the race. If your team gets attacked with spray paint or silly string, you simply have to push through the friendly sabotage. “Nobody takes themselves all that seri- ously,” he says. “If something happens to their cart, they don’t get all weird about it. They know that sabotage and being fucked with is part of the experience. And every- body’s just so chill and fun.” It also helps to have a tolerance for alcohol. The boozy nature of Phoenix Idiotarod has been baked into its DNA since conception: Lykins and Pantsmaker first conversed about the race over drinks at downtown’s Bikini Lounge. They sketched the original course design on a dirty cocktail napkin. High spirits spill over to every aspect of the race. Checkpoints, in particular, tilt wet. Teams freely hand out drinks to fellow competitors. Last year the pirate-themed team “Surrender the Booty” used adult novelties to dispense shots. “There’s nothing like watching people take shots out of dildos,” Sheridan says. “You had to jack off the dildos until you got alcohol. We just passed stuff out (to other teams). I don’t make anybody work for it.” Freeman says it’s gotten harder to handle his alcohol as he’s gotten older. “I have two glasses of wine and become giggly,” he says. “So when someone tells you, ‘Chug this warm bottle of lavender beer’ and then you’re doing shots after, it’s like, ‘Oh my gosh, I can’t do this stuff.’ I’m always impressed at the people who can.” Vaughn says no one should mistake the Idiotarod for a race with winners and losers. (As Kramer told SFGate in 2023, “You’re not supposed to get here fast. You’re supposed to get here drunk.”) “No one cares about being first,” Vaughn says. “There’s a reason they only give out trophies at the after-party for awards like ‘Best Theme’ and This team poked fun at the fact that the 2024 edition of the Phoenix Idiotard was almost its last. (All photos by Benjamin Leatherman) >> p 14 A “Star Trek”-themed cart at the Phoenix Idiotarod in 2017. The Idiots Ride Again from p 10
