Tuesday

Part of me just wants to crawl into bed against the cold, and cry and pretend I can still smell your hair on the sheets we picked out together ("The only thing we didn't fight over," I laugh).

Today I put my roll of film in the mail. FedEx would have charged me $71.00 to ship to the U.K., which seemed so preposterous I wanted to cry. I wanted to ship FedEx so the film wouldn't get x-rayed, but it wasn't worth it at that price, so I took my chances with the good old United States Postal Service, who were much more helpful, informative, and pleasant than the folks over at Fed(up)Ex. Total cost to me? $3.00. I scrawled PLEASE DO NOT X-RAY UNPROCESSED HIGH SPEED FILM all over and attached labels I printed off of Kodak's website and secured everything with FRAGILE HANDLE WITH CARE tape. I highlighted both addresses and filled out my little customs sheet. Gosh, if it doesn't get there, then where is the love?

Just where is it exactly?

It gets remarkably frigid in my apartment these days, even with all the windows closed. I made the bed after I washed the sheets. I made the bed with the flat sheet and all, and I've been keeping it made. And he was right - it looks nice. I think the big window sucks all the heat out, and the stained wall outside fills the room with grey.

On Friday night I went on my first mass bike ride. I know they all have names, but as I was tricked into this particular one, I did not quite catch its title. I was drunk, bored, and looking for mischief by 7:30pm, and after calling everyone, could only get a hold of my bike riding friend. He told me to come to a comedy show at his restaurant, and when I said I was going to take my bike, he said I should go on the ride.

I balked, citing my unfamiliarity with the whole affair, though I'd been wanting to go on a ride for a while. He reassured me otherwise, but I was firm. He said to come down anyway, so I did.

The comedy was weak, at best. Lance brought me a glass of water at my request - I'd just ridden eight miles. He said, "Are you sure?" I said, "But I don't know anyone." He walked away and then returned. "Come with me, I want to introduce you to some people."

And so I was thrust into the world of night riding.

My entrance was through an older couple, who took me under their wing, and told me that the most important thing to know is to "hold the line" - don't cut corners - and to be on the look out for the "5-0" - the cops. The rest of my instructions were to just have fun.

Oh, and to drink heavily.

I was informed that it was a fairly large ride, and I felt sheltered by our numbers. We took off from China Town downtown and I couldn't wipe the cheesing grin off my face as the herd of us poured into the street, commandeering intersections, blocking traffic, and whooping and hollering like a band of lost boys.

At one point a section of us got separated from the main pack, I lost track of my chaperons, and we were riding with some uncertainty down a row of dark warehouses, trying to find the first stop.

There were a couple tense moments, but then we came upon the liquor store with riders clustered about the parking lot, drinking and tricking and repairing back and forth. I instantly made friends, the sense of camaraderie was infectious and uplifting.

I held the pace pretty much throughout the entire ride. I lagged toward the end, after two consecutive hills. And I still had an eight mile ride home.

Fortunately I called Lance on my way out and he told me to come visit at a bar in Echo Park. Since it was on my way, I stopped over, first saying Hi to Grant outside the Echo Curio while a band thrashed inside. At the bar I was treated to a refreshing pint and amusing conversation. We stayed until they put the lights up, and then watched The Echo belch drunk underage kids onto Sunset Blvd to trickle back from whence they came. I secretly congratulated myself for being a lady of drunk dignity.

It was finally time to go home. The ride home is always a fretful cloud over your head, but when you finally get your thighs going, you're home before you know it.

And when you get home you fall into the best sleep ever.

I can't wait for my next ride. With my base mileage at sixteen, who knows how many miles I rode that night. I woke up the next day rested and without any soreness - I am constantly surprised at what good shape I am in.

I feel officially initiated into the bike world, and in my dreams visions of bike accessories dance in my head.

I felt pleased at the bar when in response to my lame assessment of my post-ride looks, one of our friends said, "Naw, just a little greasy. But that's okay. You're a bike chick now."

Yeah I am.