Tuesday, December 11, 2007

Must be a full moon tonight?

I was trying to decide what to do tonight:

POO ride?
Spin.
POO ride?
Spin.

The expected overnight low: 34 degrees. I chose spin. Anyway, I just felt like going to spin tonight. Plus, I had been elected to pick up a DVD for my boss' birthday bash tomorrow (Flight of the Conchords, Season 1), which I could totally do on the way home from spin.

As I was getting ready to leave the locker room, Carly, the blind woman who spins, asked for help: one of her shoes had gone missing. Two of us emptied her bag (separately) and looked all over the locker room for it (I actually looked twice), and it wasn't there. I asked at the front desk, and it wasn't there. I borrowed the key from the front desk, went back up to the spin room, and it wasn't there. I looked in the lost and found, and it wasn't there. Meanwhile, it was getting later and later, and I was getting crankily hungry, and I had a DVD to buy. I had to leave. But I couldn't just leave her and her blind boyfriend to walk to the bus stop with inadequate foot protection! What if she stubbed her toe?! So I offered her a flip flop (not terribly protective, but better than nothing). She was not enthusiastic. I offered to drop them at the bus stop, and they agreed. Of course, as I led them to my car, I realized that my back seats were down for bike fitting purposes, so I fiddled with the back seat on the driver's side to create a seat for Boyfriend, who got in back. And when we got to the corner of San Pablo and Ashby, I was all, "what
side of San Pablo Avenue" (really cranky now), and of course they didn't know how to explain it, but I figured it out. Then I was worried that a cop would show up (they'll ticket you in Berkeley for sitting at bus stops, and bus stop tickets are expensive). I could just see it: my two blind passengers hopping onto the bus as a cop pulls up behind me and rolls his eyes at the old "I was just trying to help a couple of blind people" excuse. Then I also realized that Boyfriend had to open the back door on the driver's side, in traffic, to get out. I'm all, "OK go now. Too late, don't go. OK, now. Too late..." It was ridiculous, so I got out of the car to help Boyfriend out. But I was like, "we have to hurry, I'm going to get a ticket." I must have sounded like a total bitch. So much for the good samaritan bit. After dropping them off, I made it to Borders, only to find out that they didn't have the DVD in stock (They never have anything in stock! Borders sucks!). So I grabbed a bite next door and moved on to Barnes and Noble down the street; there, I snagged the last copy in the store. Yay!

When I got home, I talked to Mel. She had just done the POO ride, after which she headed over to her boyfriend's place, and then managed to lock herself out of her boyfriend's apartment with her bike still inside. Her boyfriend's in China. Oops. She's going to try to key the lock before our Saturday ride. In an unrelated matter, I'm going to meet up with her in San Francisco for drinks tomorrow after work, but the person who'd originally set up the "girls' night out" thing won't be coming now: she and her husband were just out walking their dog when some other dog walker threw a ball, causing the other dog to (1) take off after it, (2) slide in some mud, and (3) accidentally take out this woman's husband! His knee is jacked and he's totally immobile, so she has to take care of him instead of coming out with us. Weird....

3 comments:

Anonymous said...

What's a POO ride? Is that a ride so extreme that you poo your bike shorts? Do people wear underpants under their shorts for this ride?

Anonymous said...

I think you should call your POO ride, the "Number 2" Ride instead. Easier to understand than your obscure acronym.

Laura said...

Everyone's a commode-ian.