In 1981, on my way from Hawaii to Florida via the rest of the country, I encountered several people protesting something or other in front of the White House in Washington D.C. and sleeping on the sidewalk at night. The cops kept a close eye on them but mostly left them alone, though an occasional tourist would get quite upset with them. I talked to them for a long time and they were glad to pose for pictures. Having nowhere else to stay at the time except the back seat of my old rusted Buick Skylark, I joined them on the sidewalk that night with my sleeping bag. Since then I’ve visited or at least passed through all fifty states while collecting pictures for the Banana Graveyard, and slept in motels from Alaska to Florida and from Maine to California, but have never had another bed quite as unique as the sidewalk in front of the White House. Many years later I can’t remember any of their names, I just remember them as “those White House freaks”—and coming from me, classifying someone as a freak is a true compliment.

       —Zimmerman Skyrat, 101Bananas.com