I’ve started putting on weight; storing fat to live off during my expected hibernation through winter. Only one part of that sentence isn’t true. I actually have been storing up fat.
With Thanksgiving just a few days away, the (un)official start of cookie baking season has begun. For the next month I’ll go out of my mind baking all kinds of sweets, knowing that for the most part, I’ll be the one eating most of them. Sure, I give a lot away, but I probably make twice as many as I get rid of. “Maybe my cousins already went through the two dozen I gave them half a week ago. I’d better make more.”
It can get a little confusing remembering where to put all the cookies I make. I’m sure I’ll need to give my roommate a refresher course soon: peanut butter balls go in the fridge, world’s best cookies and peanut blossoms go in the freezer, and the brownies stay out on the counter. I don’t see how this is difficult. Since they’re all made and in their proper place, it’s now just making sure he puts everything back, which, for some reason, is harder than it should be for a thirty year old man.
Last winter, I offered some cookies to a friend. She declined, saying that she was trying to not put on a lot of weight over the holidays. Bad move. I like to think of the last few weeks of November and all of December as a lost cause. I know I’m going to put on weight and probably give myself diabetes, but I’ll worry about all that stuff in January. Right now, there’s a piece of pie crying out to crammed into my mouth.
I wasn’t kidding when I said I plan to live off my fat; it’s what I did last winter. Starting last January I lost 15 pounds by eating practically nothing and running the heck out of my legs. Sure, I could moderate my diet over the next month. There’s no reason I have to over eat, but to me it’s just one of the joys of the holidays. It’s like why we gorge ourselves on meat around the 4th of July; it just feels right. And while I only get the meat sweats once a year, I can be buzzed on sugar for the next five weeks straight.
If the sweets weren’t around I know I wouldn’t be craving it. But when it's sitting there, calling out to me, I can't help but get fat. I like to bake, even when it’s only for my benefit. And it’s why they make (non-sweat) pants with an adjustable waist, so we can all relax a bit around the holidays and, oh what the heck, I’ll have just one more cookie.
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
Thursday, November 13, 2008
The Unicorn in the Room
I came home to find a unicorn poster on my door. My roommate, Seth, upon seeing this poster at the State Fair thought, (for reasons I haven’t yet grasped) “You know who would really like this?” Those were his exact words relaying to me later the story of winning the poster. I’m not sure if “winning” is the way I’d describe it.
It’s pretty epic, as unicorn posters go. Two unicorns (I assume they are mother and son) racing through the clouds, mountain peaks in the distance. Because where else would unicorns run but through the clouds? It’s drawn in the same stylized way as t-shirts of wolves and eagles that Napoleon Dynamite would wear. And if I were a seven year old girl with a princess themed four poster bed instead of being a mid-twenties male trying to find a girlfriend, I might by psyched on the poster. Yet it’s been two months and I still haven’t taken it down.
When the poster first went up, I thought I’d leave it there for a few days. I guess out of courtesy to my roommate. But after the few days grace period I began thinking that this might be a test of will. I was convinced that eventually Seth would have to say something like; “I can’t believe you still haven’t taken that poster down,” and I would have won! I put the over/under on Seth saying something at 3 weeks and I was taking the under. I even gave them names! The mother’s name is Charles Rangel, Chairman of the House Ways and Mean Committee, and the son is Truck Monster; Destroyer of All that is Righteous. Or Chucky and Trucky. Surely, at some point Seth would have to admit I’d taken this too far. But not a word.
One time, one of the pushpins holding the poster came loose and as I was searching around for it (more so that I didn’t step on it while barefoot than out of any concern for a slightly askew poster) Seth walked by and asked, “You’re taking it down?” Not the response of “It’s about time,” that I’d been hoping for. He seemed genuinely puzzled as to why I would get rid of it. I told him I’d lost a pushpin and he went to get me another one.
We had a party, and Seth, while giving a tour of the house, pointed to my bedroom and declared, “That’s where the magic happens.” I’ve been wondering if our guest thought that it was where the magic literally happened. Card tricks and sawing women in half. It’s what the poster would seem to indicate. And maybe this is why she hasn’t called me back.
I’ve been trying to figure out what I would say to a date. “Oh, the poster? Well, I share a room with my kid sister. But don’t worry. She’s sleeping over at a friend’s house tonight.” I’m pretty sure there’s nothing you could say so that you didn’t come across as the dude who has a unicorn poster on his bedroom door. Rightfully so.
Originally I left the poster there due to some misguided notion of good manners: if Seth was kind enough to win me a poster, the least I could do is pretend to like it for a few days before it goes in the garbage. But now, I’m just being stubborn: if he’s not going to cave than neither will I. Maybe I should back down. If I let it continue long enough, who knows what kind of poster might end up on my door next? A Pegasus? Actually, that would be pretty cool.
It’s pretty epic, as unicorn posters go. Two unicorns (I assume they are mother and son) racing through the clouds, mountain peaks in the distance. Because where else would unicorns run but through the clouds? It’s drawn in the same stylized way as t-shirts of wolves and eagles that Napoleon Dynamite would wear. And if I were a seven year old girl with a princess themed four poster bed instead of being a mid-twenties male trying to find a girlfriend, I might by psyched on the poster. Yet it’s been two months and I still haven’t taken it down.
When the poster first went up, I thought I’d leave it there for a few days. I guess out of courtesy to my roommate. But after the few days grace period I began thinking that this might be a test of will. I was convinced that eventually Seth would have to say something like; “I can’t believe you still haven’t taken that poster down,” and I would have won! I put the over/under on Seth saying something at 3 weeks and I was taking the under. I even gave them names! The mother’s name is Charles Rangel, Chairman of the House Ways and Mean Committee, and the son is Truck Monster; Destroyer of All that is Righteous. Or Chucky and Trucky. Surely, at some point Seth would have to admit I’d taken this too far. But not a word.
One time, one of the pushpins holding the poster came loose and as I was searching around for it (more so that I didn’t step on it while barefoot than out of any concern for a slightly askew poster) Seth walked by and asked, “You’re taking it down?” Not the response of “It’s about time,” that I’d been hoping for. He seemed genuinely puzzled as to why I would get rid of it. I told him I’d lost a pushpin and he went to get me another one.
We had a party, and Seth, while giving a tour of the house, pointed to my bedroom and declared, “That’s where the magic happens.” I’ve been wondering if our guest thought that it was where the magic literally happened. Card tricks and sawing women in half. It’s what the poster would seem to indicate. And maybe this is why she hasn’t called me back.
I’ve been trying to figure out what I would say to a date. “Oh, the poster? Well, I share a room with my kid sister. But don’t worry. She’s sleeping over at a friend’s house tonight.” I’m pretty sure there’s nothing you could say so that you didn’t come across as the dude who has a unicorn poster on his bedroom door. Rightfully so.
Originally I left the poster there due to some misguided notion of good manners: if Seth was kind enough to win me a poster, the least I could do is pretend to like it for a few days before it goes in the garbage. But now, I’m just being stubborn: if he’s not going to cave than neither will I. Maybe I should back down. If I let it continue long enough, who knows what kind of poster might end up on my door next? A Pegasus? Actually, that would be pretty cool.
Wednesday, October 8, 2008
Ah, the Finer Things in Life
I’ve been watching the baseball playoffs, and I realized I’m missing out on one of the greatest celebratory techniques in life: the champagne shower. Let me explain. Whenever a team wins something important, they spray each other with champagne. So in the case of baseball, when the team makes the playoffs, they have a champagne shower. And then again if they win the Divisional round; and again if they with the pennant; and of course again if they win the World Series. So after the game, they go back into the locker room and everything’s been covered with plastic tarps. And then they open bottles of champagne and shake vigorously. I’ve never had this happen to me.
Heck, I’ve never even had a beer shower, in which you replace champagne with (always) Bud Light-official beer of MLB? It’s time for a change. Why have to become a professional sports player to be drenched in Moet? I’ve decided that once, just once, I’m going to act like I accomplished something major. Notice I said like I accomplished something major. It doesn’t even have to be that serious. Made a tasty stew? Beer shower. Found a quarter? Beer shower. Got a raise at work? Take a champagne shower. You’ve earned it.
If I lived in a warmer city it’s what I’d do every New Year’s Eve. You’ve already got the champagne. Why wouldn’t you pop the cork, place a thumb over the opening and shake it towards all of your partygoers? Sure, they might get upset at first, but soon they realized they’ve never experienced anything so wonderful in their life. Imagine. A shower while fully clothed. With champagne!
Here’s what I propose. Everyone come over to my house. Bring a bottle of champagne and that day’s accomplishment. We’ll all say what we did and then pop open the bottles. And if you plan on just bringing some beers, forget it. We deserve the good stuff.
Heck, I’ve never even had a beer shower, in which you replace champagne with (always) Bud Light-official beer of MLB? It’s time for a change. Why have to become a professional sports player to be drenched in Moet? I’ve decided that once, just once, I’m going to act like I accomplished something major. Notice I said like I accomplished something major. It doesn’t even have to be that serious. Made a tasty stew? Beer shower. Found a quarter? Beer shower. Got a raise at work? Take a champagne shower. You’ve earned it.
If I lived in a warmer city it’s what I’d do every New Year’s Eve. You’ve already got the champagne. Why wouldn’t you pop the cork, place a thumb over the opening and shake it towards all of your partygoers? Sure, they might get upset at first, but soon they realized they’ve never experienced anything so wonderful in their life. Imagine. A shower while fully clothed. With champagne!
Here’s what I propose. Everyone come over to my house. Bring a bottle of champagne and that day’s accomplishment. We’ll all say what we did and then pop open the bottles. And if you plan on just bringing some beers, forget it. We deserve the good stuff.
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Ready For My Close Up
My parents came to visit recently so I went into “cleaning mode” for most of the lead-up week. It’s sort of like when you when you were old enough for your parents to leave you alone for a couple of days. Or even better, a whole week. So you promptly dirtied every dish in the house and went out and bought plastic cups because it seemed easier than getting your hands all pruney. Then, the day they were coming home you spent the entire morning doing all the dishes, vacuuming, and cleaning up all the Cheetos bags. The easy thing was that, you knew what everything should already look like. You just had to put it all back the way it was supposed to be. It’s different when your parents are coming to see your place for the first time.
Now that you live on your own you have to show that you’re responsible. So cleaning the bathroom and the kitchen are a must. Don’t want to have any dirty dishes lying around. That’s not how you entertain guests! But you can’t just clean. It’s not that simple. So you do things like buy new sheets and maybe some fancy hand soap. You have to show that you are a grownup and can handle things on your own. That way, your parents don’t spend the entire flight home worrying if you should be living closer to home. Or at least if you should find a girlfriend who will make you pick up your dirty cereal bowls and put them in the sink.
The easiest way to ensure that your parents leave with a good impression is to put your “parents hat” on. What would your parents do in this situation?
Not sure if you need more artwork on the walls? What would your parents put on the wall?
Is it weird that you don’t own any forks and eat everything with a spoon? Would your parents eat all their meals with just a spoon? (Your parents probably don’t subsist solely on microwavable bowls on Campbell’s soup and Easy Mac – so don’t tell them that you do this).
In fact, the best thing to do might be to replicate your parent’s house completely. Why mess with a good thing, right? It might be hard to exactly replicate your parent’s home, but try to do the best you can; right down to the salt & peppershaker set from Niagara Falls. Though you might want to add some personal touches. So keep that unicorn poster on your door. It’ll help your parents realize just how grown up you are.
Now that you live on your own you have to show that you’re responsible. So cleaning the bathroom and the kitchen are a must. Don’t want to have any dirty dishes lying around. That’s not how you entertain guests! But you can’t just clean. It’s not that simple. So you do things like buy new sheets and maybe some fancy hand soap. You have to show that you are a grownup and can handle things on your own. That way, your parents don’t spend the entire flight home worrying if you should be living closer to home. Or at least if you should find a girlfriend who will make you pick up your dirty cereal bowls and put them in the sink.
The easiest way to ensure that your parents leave with a good impression is to put your “parents hat” on. What would your parents do in this situation?
Not sure if you need more artwork on the walls? What would your parents put on the wall?
Is it weird that you don’t own any forks and eat everything with a spoon? Would your parents eat all their meals with just a spoon? (Your parents probably don’t subsist solely on microwavable bowls on Campbell’s soup and Easy Mac – so don’t tell them that you do this).
In fact, the best thing to do might be to replicate your parent’s house completely. Why mess with a good thing, right? It might be hard to exactly replicate your parent’s home, but try to do the best you can; right down to the salt & peppershaker set from Niagara Falls. Though you might want to add some personal touches. So keep that unicorn poster on your door. It’ll help your parents realize just how grown up you are.
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
Shoot First #1
In which I challenge Ashton Kutcher to prove his physical existence
Attach!: Let’s get right to. I’m surprised to see you.
Ashton Kutcher: Yeah, I dropped out of the spotlight for a little bit. I was focusing on producing and things on the other side of the camera.
A!: No, I mean I’m surprised to see you. You know that school of thought where nothing actually exists; it’s all in your head. That whole “if a tree falls in the woods and no one’s around to hear it” existential crap.
AK: I don’t think I understand what your saying.
A!: I thought you were something I made up. Anyway, it’s my own fault. Just last month I added you to my list of “Things I Haven’t Heard About in Awhile”. You were on the list with cocoa butter and former head of Homeland Security Tom Ridge. I still haven’t heard anything about cocoa butter.
AK: Ok. Well, as I said, I’ve been spending a lot of time. Why are you touching me?
A!: Just making sure you’re not a 3-D hologram. You were saying?
AK: Um…I’ve been spending a lot of time working behind the camera. I’ve been producing shows, like “Beauty and the Geek” and “Miss Guided”.
A!: Speaking of “Miss Guided”, that one fizzled out pretty fast. I feel like you owe me two hours of my life back.
AK: The show was only a half hour.
A!: Yeah, but I spent the next hour and a half coming up with a list of things that would have been a better use of my time. Want to know what #1 was?
AK: No.
A!: It’s unprintable anyway. I’ll give you the half an hour, but you still owe me ninety minutes of my life back. You should probably just stick to reality television from now on.
AK: Reality TV seems to be working out better for me. Both “Punk’d” and “Beauty and the Geek” were successes. But I don’t want to stick to one thing. I’m trying to broaden myself.
A!: Do you actually have any talents?
AK: That seems unfairly harsh.
A!: Sorry, I didn’t realize this was a hug-a-thon.
Slim Marshall (Attach!’s assistant): You put that baby in his place.
A!: Ignore him. He likes to pretend he’s the Ike to my Tina Turner.
AK: …So I have this movie that came out…
A!: Yes. “When in Vegas”. Let’s talk about that one.
AK: Well, in the movie my character marries Cameron Diaz’s character…
A!: I thought you said you were trying to broaden yourself. This was a pretty lame choice.
AK: I don’t think that it was a lame…
A!: Let me see if I can guess what happens in the movie. You’re a single guy, she’s a single girl. You meet, hit it off, and drunkenly get married. Except that, whoa! You don’t know anything about each other and you get on each other’s nerves. But then adversity strikes when Joe Pesci shows up and starts snorting lines of ADHD medication off your bathroom counter and you find out how much you care about each and everyone (except a dead Joe Pesci stuffed into the dumbwaiter) lives happily ever after and in anticipation of “When in Vegas 2: Euro Disney”
AK: Joe Pesci’s not in the movie.
A!: That’s too bad. I almost talked myself into seeing it. Ok, one last thing. I’m going to throw this quarter at you. If you can catch it, I’ll believe that you’re really here. Ready?
Nice catch. I guess I was wrong. Do you have any cocoa butter?
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
An Open Letter to Minnesota Twins Catcher Joe Mauer
Dear Joe Mauer,
Let me start by saying what a huge fan I am. You’re definitely one of the best catchers in the league. And a local boy to boot! Your decision-making at the catcher position is one of the key reasons that the Twins have been competitive this far into the season. I am more than happy to pin all my hopes and live vicariously through your accomplishments on the field.
But it’s not just enough for you to make all the decisions on the baseball field. You make decisions for me in the real world as well. It’s because of you that I chose Qwest for my cable/internet/phone service because you recommended it on a billboard. Now, you’ve simplified my charitable giving by suggesting I donate to the United Way. Thanks for all the help. But I have so many other decisions that I need to make, and I thought you might like to chime in on other areas of my life.
First, I’m thinking of switching cell phone service to Sprint, and even though he’s so funny in those commercials, I’m not sure if I can completely trust Peyton Manning. What do you think? What jewelry store should I go to to find a gift for my wife for our 25-year anniversary? Or what fast food restaurant should I take the kids to for dinner next week? We’re moving my mother into a nursing home and we haven’t figured out which one is best; any suggestions?
I need your help to make the everyday decisions as well. If I should turn that report in on time or if I’d be fine if it’s an hour late. Where I should eat lunch today. Your teammate, Delmon Young, recommends Subway. But Coach Gardenhire suggests Famous Dave’s BBQ. I don’t know whom to trust. Do I have anything stuck in my teeth? Should I get gas now, or can I make it another day?
It’s not that I’m incapable of making these decisions for myself. It’s just that you seem to have opinions on so many other aspects of my life. If you could find the time to answer these questions (and also where I should get a tie for my interview tomorrow), I’d deeply appreciate it. And if you could do it on a billboard on my way to work then all the better. Go Twins!
Let me start by saying what a huge fan I am. You’re definitely one of the best catchers in the league. And a local boy to boot! Your decision-making at the catcher position is one of the key reasons that the Twins have been competitive this far into the season. I am more than happy to pin all my hopes and live vicariously through your accomplishments on the field.
But it’s not just enough for you to make all the decisions on the baseball field. You make decisions for me in the real world as well. It’s because of you that I chose Qwest for my cable/internet/phone service because you recommended it on a billboard. Now, you’ve simplified my charitable giving by suggesting I donate to the United Way. Thanks for all the help. But I have so many other decisions that I need to make, and I thought you might like to chime in on other areas of my life.
First, I’m thinking of switching cell phone service to Sprint, and even though he’s so funny in those commercials, I’m not sure if I can completely trust Peyton Manning. What do you think? What jewelry store should I go to to find a gift for my wife for our 25-year anniversary? Or what fast food restaurant should I take the kids to for dinner next week? We’re moving my mother into a nursing home and we haven’t figured out which one is best; any suggestions?
I need your help to make the everyday decisions as well. If I should turn that report in on time or if I’d be fine if it’s an hour late. Where I should eat lunch today. Your teammate, Delmon Young, recommends Subway. But Coach Gardenhire suggests Famous Dave’s BBQ. I don’t know whom to trust. Do I have anything stuck in my teeth? Should I get gas now, or can I make it another day?
It’s not that I’m incapable of making these decisions for myself. It’s just that you seem to have opinions on so many other aspects of my life. If you could find the time to answer these questions (and also where I should get a tie for my interview tomorrow), I’d deeply appreciate it. And if you could do it on a billboard on my way to work then all the better. Go Twins!
Thursday, August 21, 2008
Those Rich Candidates So Relate to the Average American
Republican presidential candidate John McCain was recently asked how many houses he owned and he couldn’t answer the question, saying that he’d have his staff find out.
When you’re trying to pin your opponent as elitist and out of touch with the American people, it’s probably not a good idea to lose track of how many homes you have. The second worst thing is probably saying that you’ll have your staff look in to it. It’s a problem all Americans can relate to: having no idea what our net worth is and asking someone on our payroll to check into it. The only worse response McCain could have given was, “How many homes do I have? Not enough, that’s for sure. Damn, my feet are killing me. You’d think when you spend $500 on a pair of shoes they’d at least be comfortable.”
It’s not like he was asked how many ties he had. Or how many ice cream cones he generally eats in a week. We’re talking about homes! McCain’s obliviousness about his own real estate shouldn’t come as a surprise. When asked to quantify what is “rich”, he said $5 million. That’s not just rich, that’s the highest one tenth of one percent income bracket. Put another way, it you had $5 million you’d have more money than 99.9% of people in this country.
What’s fascinating is how hard both McCain and Democratic candidate Barack Obama are fighting over which candidate can more relate to regular Americans. One has been in Washington for over two decades and is married to a woman worth up to $100 million (McCain); the other is a Columbia and Harvard educated lawyer who (with his wife) made around $4 million last year (Obama). It seems like neither has that much in common with the average citizen.
In response to the Obama campaign attacking McCain for being out of touch with the American people, a McCain spokesperson said, “Does a guy who worries about the price of arugula…really want to have a debate about who’s in touch with the regular Americans?” Um, excuse me, Obama made $4 million last year. I don’t think he’s sweating it if the arugula is $2 more expensive at Whole Foods than it is at the farmer’s market. And actually, a debate sounds like a great idea. It doesn’t even have to be a debate. I propose one question with a straightforward answer:
Besides houses and cars, what’s the most expensive thing you ever purchased, and about how much did it cost?
If either said their most expensive purchase was a 60” plasma television, I’d say that they actually did relate to the public. But I’m sure their real answers would reveal just how little they’re like the average American.
When you’re trying to pin your opponent as elitist and out of touch with the American people, it’s probably not a good idea to lose track of how many homes you have. The second worst thing is probably saying that you’ll have your staff look in to it. It’s a problem all Americans can relate to: having no idea what our net worth is and asking someone on our payroll to check into it. The only worse response McCain could have given was, “How many homes do I have? Not enough, that’s for sure. Damn, my feet are killing me. You’d think when you spend $500 on a pair of shoes they’d at least be comfortable.”
It’s not like he was asked how many ties he had. Or how many ice cream cones he generally eats in a week. We’re talking about homes! McCain’s obliviousness about his own real estate shouldn’t come as a surprise. When asked to quantify what is “rich”, he said $5 million. That’s not just rich, that’s the highest one tenth of one percent income bracket. Put another way, it you had $5 million you’d have more money than 99.9% of people in this country.
What’s fascinating is how hard both McCain and Democratic candidate Barack Obama are fighting over which candidate can more relate to regular Americans. One has been in Washington for over two decades and is married to a woman worth up to $100 million (McCain); the other is a Columbia and Harvard educated lawyer who (with his wife) made around $4 million last year (Obama). It seems like neither has that much in common with the average citizen.
In response to the Obama campaign attacking McCain for being out of touch with the American people, a McCain spokesperson said, “Does a guy who worries about the price of arugula…really want to have a debate about who’s in touch with the regular Americans?” Um, excuse me, Obama made $4 million last year. I don’t think he’s sweating it if the arugula is $2 more expensive at Whole Foods than it is at the farmer’s market. And actually, a debate sounds like a great idea. It doesn’t even have to be a debate. I propose one question with a straightforward answer:
Besides houses and cars, what’s the most expensive thing you ever purchased, and about how much did it cost?
If either said their most expensive purchase was a 60” plasma television, I’d say that they actually did relate to the public. But I’m sure their real answers would reveal just how little they’re like the average American.
Sunday, August 17, 2008
It’s a Car Culture, and I’m Just Cycling in It
In a country like Denmark where 50% of people ride their bike it’s probably a lot easier not to get yelled at for riding in the road. At least, it’s probably easier not to get yelled at than in a city like Minneapolis which is, depending on who you listen to, either one of the top three or top five friendliest bike cities in this country. Despite the ranking, cyclists still get no respect.
Case in point: I was riding home from a friend’s house on Saturday night around midnight. Approaching my turn, I moved into the left lane, and as I got into the intersection, I saw cars coming from the opposite direction. So I slowed down and waited to make the turn, which caused to the truck behind me to have to break. As I turned, and the truck behind me headed straight, the driver yelled at me, “Get out of the street!”
In this situation, it’s difficult not to yell a knee jerk reaction of “F’ you, dude,” (which I did, hoping that he wouldn’t follow me, but knowing that if he did, there’s a one-way road heading the opposite direction to easily duck down and avoid getting beaten up). It's especially hard when you know that you're in the right.
Or consider that earlier that night I had to speed up to avoid getting hit by a truck towing a boat; even though I was going straight and he was making a turn. At night, I take all the necessary precautions; I have a blinking back light (red) and a blinking front light (white), so there is no reason for cars to not see me. Plus, it was a pretty well lit street. Oh, and I think I forgot to mention that this truck had headlights, which should have illuminated me. But I realize that if a car were to hit me, it’d do much more damage to me than I would do to the car, so I try to be extra careful.
With the exception of rides like Critical Mass it seems that cyclists are never given the proper consideration. When I'm on the road, I am no different that any other automobile. Sure, I might be slower, but that’s why I ride in the farthest right lane as close to the side as possible. But Critical Mass (at least in Minneapolis) can become a double-edged sword. I agree with what Critical Mass rides are trying to promote (the idea of sharing the road with cyclists and being aware of their presence), but the most effective way to do that is in a perfectly legal manner. Do I always ride completely legal? No. I run red lights (only when it’s completely safe) and split lanes of traffic. But I never go out of my way to inconvenience cars. I believe if you piss off a driver, they’re less likely to be considerate to the next bicyclist they encounter. Because as we all know, most people in this country are so level headed when they drive. When Critical Mass rides shut down all lanes of traffic and go out of their way to harass drivers, they don’t do themselves any good. Sure, it makes quite a statement: “I’m impeding your way. You should have thought about that this morning when you hopped in you car instead of riding your bike to work.” But all the drivers do is get upset at the riders; they don’t think about the need to work cooperatively with the cyclists.
In European countries where more people ride their bicycles cities work to improve the safety and ease of biking. They eliminate parking spaces and block off roads, making it much less convenient to drive. They add a dedicated lane between the sidewalk and parked cars for biking to make it safer for riders. As gas prices rose, it seemed like the United States could be headed in the right direction concerning cyclists. With more people biking, drivers would need to be more aware, and might begin to learn what rights cyclists do and don’t have. But as gas prices fall, I worry that this country may have lost the chance to properly promote bicycling. Instead, it looks like we’ll be stuck with drivers yelling at bikers to get off the road and cyclists yelling back and hoping that they can get where they need to go quick enough without getting run off the road, even when the cyclist has the right of way.
Case in point: I was riding home from a friend’s house on Saturday night around midnight. Approaching my turn, I moved into the left lane, and as I got into the intersection, I saw cars coming from the opposite direction. So I slowed down and waited to make the turn, which caused to the truck behind me to have to break. As I turned, and the truck behind me headed straight, the driver yelled at me, “Get out of the street!”
In this situation, it’s difficult not to yell a knee jerk reaction of “F’ you, dude,” (which I did, hoping that he wouldn’t follow me, but knowing that if he did, there’s a one-way road heading the opposite direction to easily duck down and avoid getting beaten up). It's especially hard when you know that you're in the right.
Or consider that earlier that night I had to speed up to avoid getting hit by a truck towing a boat; even though I was going straight and he was making a turn. At night, I take all the necessary precautions; I have a blinking back light (red) and a blinking front light (white), so there is no reason for cars to not see me. Plus, it was a pretty well lit street. Oh, and I think I forgot to mention that this truck had headlights, which should have illuminated me. But I realize that if a car were to hit me, it’d do much more damage to me than I would do to the car, so I try to be extra careful.
With the exception of rides like Critical Mass it seems that cyclists are never given the proper consideration. When I'm on the road, I am no different that any other automobile. Sure, I might be slower, but that’s why I ride in the farthest right lane as close to the side as possible. But Critical Mass (at least in Minneapolis) can become a double-edged sword. I agree with what Critical Mass rides are trying to promote (the idea of sharing the road with cyclists and being aware of their presence), but the most effective way to do that is in a perfectly legal manner. Do I always ride completely legal? No. I run red lights (only when it’s completely safe) and split lanes of traffic. But I never go out of my way to inconvenience cars. I believe if you piss off a driver, they’re less likely to be considerate to the next bicyclist they encounter. Because as we all know, most people in this country are so level headed when they drive. When Critical Mass rides shut down all lanes of traffic and go out of their way to harass drivers, they don’t do themselves any good. Sure, it makes quite a statement: “I’m impeding your way. You should have thought about that this morning when you hopped in you car instead of riding your bike to work.” But all the drivers do is get upset at the riders; they don’t think about the need to work cooperatively with the cyclists.
In European countries where more people ride their bicycles cities work to improve the safety and ease of biking. They eliminate parking spaces and block off roads, making it much less convenient to drive. They add a dedicated lane between the sidewalk and parked cars for biking to make it safer for riders. As gas prices rose, it seemed like the United States could be headed in the right direction concerning cyclists. With more people biking, drivers would need to be more aware, and might begin to learn what rights cyclists do and don’t have. But as gas prices fall, I worry that this country may have lost the chance to properly promote bicycling. Instead, it looks like we’ll be stuck with drivers yelling at bikers to get off the road and cyclists yelling back and hoping that they can get where they need to go quick enough without getting run off the road, even when the cyclist has the right of way.
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