Not in a great mood tonight and wasn't in a great mood leaving work. Nothing in particular. I struggled with my combination lock (I thought I knew the combination, but maybe I only know it +/- 1 of the actual combination and it's very frustrating when I need multiple [read: 8] attempts to get my stupid lock open) and that didn't make anything better. I just didn't care to ride my normal route home and I didn't feel like going a different way, so I just felt sort of stuck. Like a car commuter.
The ride itself wasn't terrible and thus discordant with my initial mood. I cheered up after a while, so I guess it's nothing like being a car commuter, by which you get increasingly miserable the deeper you're into your trip. By the time I was home, I was pretty much fine. Victory for bicycles.
I thought I saw a Buddhist monk but it was just a woman in an unfortunate dress. I rode behind a woman on a CaBi who had wore bows in her hair that looked like flowers. She had on the kinds of jeans a Russian might wear. Later in the ride, I was behind a guy wearing a giant backpack and he must have been carrying everything he owned. I passed a lot of people who were carrying a pair of sneakers, but were wearing flip flops. I found this odd. I saw a puppy in Volta Park who had "puppy energy" but was totally huge and the owner looked outmatched. Get used to it.
As is my habit, I rode down the sidewalk on 34th street rather than wait in traffic in order to make the right turn on M. I was behind a Georgetown mother-daughter pair and I was patiently waiting with no intention of passing them. Nonetheless, I was espied by the daughter and rather than just nod or acknowledge or do something a mature person who do, I literally looked away and began to whistle. Smooth. Very Loony Tunes. The daughter nonetheless moved over and I rode around, realizing by that point that I should flee and hope they never see me again. Social graces: don't got em.
There's an exciting new trend in jogging, whereby the runner reaches the end of the bridge and turns around suddenly and without warning. I thought that she had dropped some money or something and when she continued to run past what I surmised (incorrectly) was a dollar bill, I thought that bike commuting was really paying out.
What would it be like if the Sartorialist only took pictures of bicyclists and only did so with an iPhone and no zoom for 30 yards away? Maybe something like this:
This guy had a cool bike and leather bar tape and a nice Brooks. Yes, there's actually a cyclist there. I like this picture a lot, not because it achieved its intended purpose, but because I think it accurately captures the vibe (sadness, isolation) of outer Rosslyn. Does that sound like a lame justification for posting a vastly inferior photo? Sure.