As part of the frozen frivolities of the winter carnival in St. Paul, respectable citizens traditionally dress up in red devil costumes, smear their faces with coal-black grease paint and ride around town on a fire engine. The revelers, collectively known as "Vulcanus Rex and his Krewe," then swarm into offices and stores, firing blank cartridges from pistols and grabbing every woman in sight for a smudgy kiss.
Not this year—or at least not so "Vulcanically." One unamused woman last year resisted a Krewe member's kiss and, after he persisted, took her grievance to the St. Paul human rights commission. She...
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