She wore an ashy blonde afro wig, fashionably ripped chaps and a g-string. She asked for a light. Five minutes later, she was onstage shaking her ass with the Extra Action marching band on the first night of Lebowski Fest. Far out, man.

For the tenth anniversary of "The Big Lebowski," the fest kicked off on Friday at San Francisco's Mezzanine with a line-up of bands and a screening of the legendary movie. It wasn't clear what was more eclectic or acid flashback-like: the bands or the fans themselves.

First up was Messhuga, who turned classics like "If I Were a Rich Man" into surfer rock. Despite being dressed up like Hasidic Jews, the band rung in the boisterous Shabbos. Next came the Dead Hensons, and this time the gimmick was covers of anything that Jim Henson had touched. Wait-how is this relevant to the Dude? It wasn't, but the crowd listened on, lubricated by their $9 milky (not creamy) white Russians.

Extra Action burst its way into the crowd, playing raucous and out-of-control while its dancers failed to control nip-slips. Some time between sweaty drummers rubbing on audience legs and the much-awaited screening, a couple in their 40s sidled over. "My husband would like to kiss you," the wife said. It wouldn't be the last proposition of Lebowski Fest.

When film finally graced the framed brick wall, the crowd was too rocked out or drowning in their drinks. The fans shouted lines at the makeshift screen, but it wasn't even fifteen minutes in when the SF folks started checking their iPhones and half the club had already trickled out.

The second night drew the real fans: the bowling aficionados, the trivia mavens and the costumes. At the Classic Bowling Center in Daly City, 60 lanes accommodated the bowlers for four hours as Jeff "The Dude" Dowd ambled the length of the alley. A few stations served strong Caucasians (this time $6 a pop). It was not to be a sober night.

The write-in trivia contest kicked off the night, though round one stumped most people with "What is the name of Little Larry's teacher?" Maudes strolled past, both enrobed and Viking-clad. Some made their presence known as oft-quoted movie lines: the duo of fucking a stranger in the ass and the various Royal We's.

The costume contest brought the fans together. The crowd hooted and hollered for the Maude in body suit and harness, shaking her paintbrushes as the emcee remarked on her strongly vaginal art. The Walters numbered in the teens, some carrying their Pomeranians, but it was Walter with the Folger can of ashes who stole the coveted title. The Dudes brought various accoutrements with them-beepers, robes, shades, a rug that tied the room together-though only one Dude sported a pair of jellies.

This night, with its cheaper drinks and janky lanes that marked gutterballs as strikes, felt more Dude-like: casual, laidback and drunk. Dowd was in his element, though he claimed he had struggled to find the actual bar.

Lebowski Fest is about friends and laughter, Dowd said. "The Dude is the Holy Fool, like Colbert, Stewart, Holden Caulfield. The King's Jester."

And then, amid much shoulder-touching, Dowd waxed on about what makes a man (besides a pair of testicles). He smiled, paused. "A full heart, open enough to be entirely connected with women," he said. "The Dude's one of the girls." He pulled out a business card, his thumb leaving a grease stain at the top.