I arrive at Ryan's dinosaur birthday party to find guests spilling out of the front of the house. Outside, a collection of bicyclists smoke cigarettes; one rider is wearing a helmet transformed into a dinosaur head, complete with decorative teeth and LEDs for eyes. "This is the real reason dinosaurs went extinct!" he proclaims as he takes a drag (nice try, Gary Larson). In the back, more pedal pushers lounge on lawn chairs and porch steps, stopping occasionally to fill their cups from the pony keg. Another guest has chosen to represent the extinction-causing asteroid, wearing bits of glitter and foil to represent ice, metal, and space dust—the ultimate party crasher.

The front entrance of the house has been decorated like the mouth of a tyrannosaur; I step over the bottom teeth and make my way inside. In the living room, people dance to Hot Chip. A female stegosaurus chats with a man dressed as Fred Flintstone. Her costume is fashionably uncomfortable—a child's costume that has been altered for a full-grown woman's body, accenting the adult "features" but retaining the row of plates down her back and tail.

One guest is dressed as a human except for a donkey's head—an anachronism among the dinosaur-themed guests—but this asshat can really get down to disco music. Ryan exclaims to everyone: "A bunch of people I don't know just showed up. Cool!" Uninvited guests or no, the dancing continues late into the night.

Want The Stranger to Walk the Dinosaur at your house party? E-mail the date, place, and party details to partycrasher@thestranger.com.