Phil's Bike Tour

Wednesday, July 13, 2005

"you made some money today"

Sometimes the day sneaks up on you. Sometimes you are just chillin on the bench when shit gets crazy. After getting only 1 tag yesterday I was preparing myself for another painfully underemployed work day. On the verge of chillin with Judge Judy and Brown with Kirkland I narrowly avoided sweating on the sofa all day.

Fuck this weather, It's making folks go crazy. I head down to the financial District and ring up Mat from Real Currier it's 1130 or so maybe he's got work... no dice. bit I find the high school band is working overtime at the Reagan Building. So I listen and write. A lady on the bench next to me asks me what Im writing. Next thing I know she is telling me all about her lost love, an affair built on fantasy role playing that she still needs and pines for.

"When I tell you my husband is not satisfying me Im not hitting on you."


She is married with kids and unfulfilled. Her time with the last guy, a writer, was intense. She tells me about the fantasies she played out involving blackmail, torture, and rape.

"A girl once asked me to beat her up." I said

"I'd be in to that!" she said more excitedly than she meant to. "Uhh... my husband wont even talk to me about this stuff, to him it's immature at best, and evil at worst. This was a solid reminder. Take care of your partner's needs, or they will find someone else to do it.

We talked for about 3 hours. Her coworkers came and left and came and left again. She takes my email and just then I get a call on the radio from my dispatcher: "Double rush job right near you, get on it!"

Then it's hurry up and wait. Im chillin in the Dept of Commerce and I wait for 20 min. a dozen calls are made to different people and departments. No one knows where the package is.

"Oh The package hasn't been sent down to the mailroom yet." No worries, im paid to wait by the min.

I get it and I get another pick and I drop and pick and Im at the International Trade Commission just before deadline. In all I make $60 in less than 3 hours for doing what I love: playing on my bike in the street, meeting new people and feeling a rush I create with my own legs.

But then there's the air. I dont remember any air being this bad. In LA I was lucky the air was good when i was there... and I spent most of my time on the western half of the city. In NY it rained every other day and seemingly kept things feeling clean. In DC im dying, and not as slowly as I am comfortable with. Although you can get some good food there. A $3 slice of pizza = 1/4th of the pie. awesome. Still it's hard to eat when you cant breathe.

I talk up the polo at the Lucky Bar after work. $2.50/10 buffalo wings. Folks seem into it, but I know it's' only talk until they are swinging mallets. More bars, more people. They tell me about the guy who in New York Claimed to be from DC and called himself mohawk. But he didn't have a mohawk, and he wasn't from DC. Now he is MIA, but he left his mark on my helmet: "mohawk says any helmet law sucks"

Great people chillin at the Common Share: Moon, Joe, barry, kim... we dance and party and damn its a good time so another bar! An ex messenger who now works as a scientist at the department of defense doesn't have a bike with him so I put him on the seat and head up the hill with me on the pedals. Normally it's not that big of a deal, but I did sprint my ass off today, my knee is still swollen, and this cat is a little over 200lbs. So I decide we must stop at the park to lighten the load of vodka i have in my bag.

Contraband is shared. I miss out on the second floor of the bar. Apparently that is where the girls have been hanging out. oh well. I am taken to a home where folks can do more drugs... im starting to fade some. If tomorrow is more like today... and fuck its only a couple hours until i gotta wake up! So I watch a new friend play Manhunt on his Playstation. It's a hyper violent 1st person shooter from Rockstar games. Perfect thing to wind down with.

Then some more vodka and a freak out from my host and finally at 630 we leave the crackhouse. My throat hurts, I stink like hell and there are bugs all over this swap. If not for my trusty Stim-U-Dent toothpicks I wouldn't even have minty fresh breath.

Why does my knee continue to swell. I give you all the lube you need!


  • I love your writing. It is so easy to hang onto.

    By Anonymous Anonymous, at 3:13 PM  

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