{"id":14883,"date":"2011-06-01T17:12:26","date_gmt":"2011-06-02T00:12:26","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.reallifesuperheroes.org\/?p=14883"},"modified":"2011-06-01T17:12:26","modified_gmt":"2011-06-02T00:12:26","slug":"the-alleged-adventures-of-phoenix-jones","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.rlsh.net\/archive\/2011\/06\/01\/the-alleged-adventures-of-phoenix-jones\/","title":{"rendered":"The (Alleged) Adventures of Phoenix Jones"},"content":{"rendered":"
Originally posted: http:\/\/www.seattleweekly.com\/2011-06-01\/news\/the-alleged-adventures-of-phoenix-jones\/<\/a> On a dark<\/strong> and drizzly night in downtown Seattle, five strangers huddle outside police headquarters awaiting the arrival of the man who calls himself Phoenix Jones. Scheduled to be here at half-past midnight, it’s now 1 a.m. and the city’s most famous real-life superhero is nowhere to be found.
\n<\/a>By Keegan Hamilton<\/a><\/p>\nTrying to uncover what’s real and what isn’t about Seattle’s most famous superhero.<\/h3>\n
\nThree-fifths of the group is part of a local documentary film crew that has been following Jones and his team of “Rain City Superheroes” on foot patrols for the past three months. Already familiar with Jones’ modus operandi, the filmmakers are in no hurry. “Last night they made us wait an hour,” says one, as she rummages through her purse in search of a granola bar. “Tonight I brought a snack.”
\nSuddenly, one of the crew spots Jones’ familiar black-and-gold mask and matching rubber suit behind the steering wheel of a passing Kia sedan. A few minutes later, Jones rounds a corner on foot and strides towards the group, trailed by two men in black neoprene balaclavas.
\n“Hi,” he says, in a gruff approximation of Christian Bale’s sandpaper growl in The Dark Knight. “I’m Phoenix Jones.” He stands six feet tall, with a patch of curly black whiskers protruding from the dark brown skin on his chin, which, along with his mouth, is the only portion of his face not concealed by the mask. Fingerless gloves with lead-lined knuckles augment his firm handshake, and in his utility belt he carries a protective arsenal; cattle prod, tear gas, handcuffs, and a first-aid kit.
\nJones introduces his nightstick-toting associates as Ghost and Pitch Black, and then outlines the evening’s agenda. With last call approaching, the plan is to make the rounds in Pioneer Square before heading up First Avenue to Belltown. “By then it will be the crack hour,” he says, referring to the wee hours of the morning when business is booming at one of the city’s most notorious open-air drug markets. But first, with three cameramen in tow, Jones and his sidekicks plunge headlong into the mob of drunken twenty-somethings spilling out onto the streets.
\nFrat boys holler, “Love your work, bro!” and tipsy girls in skimpy outfits squeal “Ooh, take a picture with me!” Jones stops and mugs for dozens of camera-phone portraits with his fans while ignoring the taunts\u2014”Hey look, it’s Joaquin Phoenix! You ruled in Gladiator, dude!”\u2014of others.
\nPassing through a parking lot, he and his posse catch a whiff of marijuana smoke. “You smell that?” he asks. “That’s not a crime. Stupid, but not a crime.”
\nOutside The Last Supper Club, a girl trips and hits the pavement in full view of a few uniforms. Jones darts to the rescue, helping her up and reaching for his first-aid kit, but the young lady and her friends stumble off into the night before he can offer her a Band-Aid.
\n“In that situation we did the right thing,” Jones says to his crew. “But it doesn’t matter if the police are right there. Our job is to be where they aren’t.”
\nWith that, the superheroes start heading north toward Belltown, making sure to stop at every crosswalk with a red light because, says Jones, he was once issued a jaywalking citation while in costume. Just inside the main entrance to Pike Place Market, Jones pauses to chat up a guy struggling to load a belligerently drunk girl into the backseat of a car. A group of bystanders stop to gawk at the spectacle.
\n“I don’t trust the cops, but I trust Phoenix Jones,” says one of the onlookers.
\nThe man’s friend is incredulous. “Well, what’s he done?” she asks. “What does he actually do when something breaks out?”
\n“He puts himself in harm’s way. He got his nose broken before. He gets right in the middle of situations.”
\n“Yeah, but that’s something any other drunk person would do.”
\n“Well, yeah, but he’s wearing a costume.”
\nThis back-and-forth between late-night revelers is representative of Jones’ polarizing personae. Since he began patrolling the Seattle streets in late 2010\u2014wearing an outfit complete with bulletproof vest, “ballistic cup,” and “stab plates”\u2014he has turned into a lighting rod for controversy not just among regular Seattleites, but also police, reporters, and, incredibly, other self-styled “Real Life Superheroes,” many of whom scoff at the notion of “fighting crime,” and instead prefer to perform good deeds while clad in comic book-inspired attire.
\n