Thursday, March 27, 2008

Drinking With Satan

Tuesday was Belgian beer night at the Bulldog. Tuesday was also Alix's birthday celebration. I happened to be checking work emails from home and got the invitation. Here I am sipping a Lucifer Ale (from its namesake glass) among friends. I tried to strike a regal pose since I'm not accustomed to quaffing ales from such dainty receptacles.

Wow, that was a tough ride home. Beware the party guest who seeks to buy a round of bourbon for everyone at the end of the night. The Big Dummy rides smooth, but it doesn't have autopilot. I found that out as I leaned into a corner a couple blocks from home and washed out in a layer of post-melt gravel. (Or, so, that's my story.)

Stuff often breaks when you crash. Including, in this case, riding glasses, which in turn can create fun gashes and colorful black eyes. Not a bad crash but I still took a knock. Is a guy proud to crash while riding home from a bar? Personally speaking, no. But crashing happens. In a somewhat hypocritical way, I guess I'd just like to say: Wear a helmet. If you're part cat and can always manage to crash upright without knocking your head -- well, more power to you. I guess you're a better, smarter or sometimes more sober rider than me. Yeehaw. I mean shitting my pants and having someone take care of me for the rest of my life sounds kinda fun and all. But why take that chance? If you're a straight-edge know-it-all, guess what? Unbeknownst to you, your skull might have a pavement magnet built in. Wear a helmet and don't leave any unwanted moral highroad comments on my blog.

1 comment:

Andy said...

Hey, that's the fourth Q-related function I can think of in the past 6 months that I wasn't invited to by folks I thought liked me!


Glad you're not dead.