Fried, eh? Something like that. I just got back from Indian buffet co-worker birthday/end of year holiday party lunch, so excuse me if I mistake my panniers for paneers. I'm also going to have to keep this one short.
I don't think that many bicyclists in DC put milk crates on their rear racks. Some, but not a lot. Perhaps from a paucity of milk crates. not any stylistic preference.
"Superbiker trackstand extravaganza" on Penn. My spell check didn't recognize two of those three words. Spell check is pro-car. This guy had quite good balance and I envied his ability to stay upright. I didn't envy his looking like a trained seal.
I rode through the first set of security bollards on Madison Place and asked the guard, who was standing outside, if it was ok to ride through the second set. He said that it was. In many cases, it's better to seek forgiveness than ask permission, but in my experience, interactions with the armed state security apparatus aren't such cases. I can also think of very few cases where being more polite is worse than being less polite. Perhaps this is why people take advantage of me. (just kidding! They do it because of my profligacy and vast button fortune)
Someone forgot to turn off the wind machine. Made for slow going.
No fewer than 4 bicyclists shoaled at a stop light along R. It was like a motorcycle gang surrounding a helpless shopkeeper. "What are you shoaling against?" "What do you got." 2 on CaBis, too. Oh well. I rode around them somewhere on the next block, only to have to brake to avoid, not as narrowly as he though,a pedestrian who dundered his way into the bike lane in a jaywalking fashion. Rather than ride past him, I came to a complete stop as he said "Whoa!" He was in no danger of being hit and I was in no danger of being a horse, so I didn't really get that. I mustered my wry (as I would a pastrami sandwich) indignation and deadpanned "excuse me," let him hop back on the curb and set off again on my way, having already been passed by that girl I see sometimes who plays music from a speaker dangling from the back of her messenger back. Jaywalking pedestrians: please look for bicyclists. Thank you.
Sort of "chased" another bicyclist on the ride up Mass, but he crossed the street about half way up, leaving me alone to finish the rest of the way up. I decided that I would see if I could make it up the hill faster than he could and I did, but only because he must have turned off somewhere. A win is still a win, even when the contest is fictitious and your opponent doesn't know he's participating.
I wore normal people clothes today and I enjoyed it. I'll probably even wear normal people clothes home, since I have no other clothes with me. Though, the bookstore is having a sale, so I could buy an over-sized sweatshirt and some shorts with the school's name plastered on the rear. I think I won't though.
I don't know about tonight's ride yet, nor its posting. Perhaps Arlington even.
One more reminder, in case you read this blog every other day and not every day or maybe skipped yesterday because you had better things to do (unlikely) or are afraid of the number 14 (more likely). This upcoming Tuesday, I will be selling buttons (and allowing you to pick up already purchased buttons) from the friendly confines of the Black Rooster Pub, which is on L Street, NW between 19th and 20th. I will be there from 5:30 to 7:30 and I might also be eating a half-price hamburger or have recently eaten one or be waiting for the one I ordered to get to the table. Come by, meet (or meet again) me, meet other people who might show up, drink something, save a couple bucks on a hamburger, and give $5 to WABA in exchange for a button. Do remember, button sales will end on 12/31/11. Because the Mayas said so, maybe.