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Domino’s American Legends at Common & Carondelet

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Warning: this blog will expose some of my latent angry lesbian feminist tendencies. I spent most of my day inside, cursing the vicious rains that are keeping me off my bike. Damn you, Nature! But it is what it is, and I managed to get quite a bit of work done, so, meh, good for me. I was working on my Introduction to Gender and Women’s syllabus for the fall semester, so that’s where my head was at when I headed out for the Britney Spears/Nicki Minag Femme Fatale 2011 tour at New Orleans Arena. I have liked Brtiney since she was a little girl. I wrote my master’s exams to her second album on repeat. I showed clips of Crossroads in my first Intro to Women’s Studies course in 2002; it really does offer a rare representation of class politics, plus, when Brit sings “I Love Rock and Roll,” well, um, I just really like that part. Every semester I talk to students about this quandary, where women’s  sexual power and pleasure is an essential feminst right and fight, but also the way that the narrowing of women’s power to the sexual realm is dangerous, especially for women who have long been imagined as always already hypersexual. So, I ask my students, is Britney (or Nicki or Beyonce or Lady Gaga) a feminist figure, or is she just playing up to old damaging tropes of women’s sexual availabilty? Thing is, it’s both and neither and all of that. Nothing is either revolutionary or not, subversive or not. It depends on who’s doing the looking, what the one being looked at is putting on display, where it’s happening. It depends on the rhetorical situation. Tonight, watching so many women hobbling in heels they couldn’t trust and wearing skirts they couldn’t sit in, it just didn’t seem like the kind of feminism I want us to be fighting for, even if Britney’s show is all about her “power” as a femme fatale. It seemed like feminism as just another consumer choice, and it reminded me of this sign outside a Domino’s I passed as I pushed my bike through the rush hour crowds, America’s legends reduced to pizza with ham and pineapple on top, politics reduced to what you buy or wear. And that’s not even to touch the weird Orientalism, the “sexy” prisoner/guard motif, how we all know nobody’s actually making music but we don’t say anything,  the endless dance fighting, white versus black, good versus evil, and so on. But that’s just how I read it tonight–we’ll see what I think about it in the morning. What I am sure of is that the bike is the way to get to a giant show. from the grossly underused rack and whizzing by all those suckers sitting in their cars in traffic. Ride a bike, people!

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Men Moving a Freezer Into the Soda Shop at Magazine & Andrew Higgins

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I swear, you go out of town for a week, and they’ve added something else to the ever-expanding empire of the World War II museum downtown. After a day spent dodging rain, writing emails, and looking work in the face, I hopped on my bike and headed Uptown to meet A., C., and L. for dinner at the Ethipian place. On a similar ride last month I noticed the new “preservation pavillion” added to the complex–a big glass box of a building where some kind of ship or somesuch is being rehabbed. Today I noticed folks moving things into the Soda Shop, another nostalgic addition. I wonder if the audience for this museum will persist, if the nostalgia can be inherited on down the line, or if we’ll have a giant museum to remember our war in Iraq, a special building just for the Navy Seals who took down Osama bin Laden, a retro coffee shoppe serving Grande Light Mocha Frappucinnos. This museum is a huge tourist draw aside from just being an exercise in collective memory, which means there’s the money and the will to build, build, build. I wish we could extend that will to the neighborhoods of New Orleans, an exercise in collective memories of Fazendeville or the 7th Ward or West Baltimore. But those aren’t memories, they’re living communities, but I wish we could have the will to build there too. I continued my ride Uptown, then back downtown throught the Bywater, and home again. It’s good to be home.

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Traffic at St. Charles & MLK

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I flew back to New Orleans today after a week setting up my new life in Baltimore. The weird thing about transitional periods is that the are, well, transitional. I’m in my second sublet of the summer–all my stuff is packed in boxes in my office that’s not really my office anymore–and I’m just here for three more weeks before I go back, and I really just want to get to riding those hills in Baltimore so I can get better at it, but I also don’t want to leave New Orleans. I mean, I know how to live in this town and how to bike around it, and it’s kind of scary to think about actually living in that sprawling metropolis! And the biking! I know these streets, all the cracks and traffic patterns and tendencies of cars and pedestrians, and I trust myself to ride in a straight line no matter where I’m riding, which means that I’m never really afraid. I snapped this picture while waiting for my turn at the light on St. Charles and Martin Luther King, watching the cars go by, listening to the streetcar come up behind me, avoiding joggers on the tracks. There’s a lot going on, but I am expecting all of it. I’m still not sure what to expect of Baltimore’s streets, and I’m both anxious to find out, and wanting to stay here, in my comfort zone. There will be a healthy amount of fear management in the next year. But not tonight. Tonight there was an easy pedal back downtown, an order of beignets, a good chat with my pops, and a walk along Frenchman, listening to the music start to pour out of the doors. Yeah, let’s try to stay in the present, but get in some longer rides to improve that cardiovascular fitness for the hills. It’s a balance.

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Gwynns Falls Parkway a Half Mile Or So From Frederick Avenue

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So back when I thought I might be a runner before figuring out it hurt my shoulder (don’t ask), I followed that Couch to 5K program to the letter, and it worked. Where’s the training program for the ten mile communte through hills both ways? Because that’s what I need. J. drove me and the rental bike to campus today, I did a few paperwork things, and then it was time to practice the commute back to the city. It started with a 3/4 of a mile ride up the incline of the aptly-named Hilltop Circle and then a right on the busy Wilkens Avenue. That offered some downhill respite, thank goodness, until another slow climb up Caton Avenue, where the traffic scared the pants off me, and I actually got off the bike and walked–I’d rather be safe than sorry. And then all of the sudden I was at the head of the Gwynns Falls Parkway, no cars allowed! How wonderful! I happily pedaled along the paved trail, stopping to take pictures like this one, of green walls hiding water and falls. Is this part of my commute, really, I thought. Turns out, no, so I turned back and retraced my steps and was back on the road with cars speeding by as I huffed and puffed my way to North Avenue. One guy shouted from his stoop on Fulton that I would catch more of a breeze if I just pedaled faster. Excellent plan, sir, but not one I am yet able to follow. Pedal, pedal, pedal, buy a bottle of water from a guy on a corner–aid stations!–take a right, take another right, take a right, and I was back at the bike shoppe, returning my rental, rehydrating, and after all that, feeling surprisingly good. It took me forever, and ithe traffic got a little nuts at times, but I did it, and I can do it again. But I am going to need to be patient and to practice. Project, yay!

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A Ship at Dock From Across Fells Point

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I spent most of my day on foot, running errands and killing time before J. picked me up to host me for my last couple of nights in Baltimore. My evening task? Get my rental bike from Charles Village to Linwood. Don’t mind if I do! As a biker of habit, I already have a preferred route to downtorn, so I pedaled down Guilford to Falls Road and then along whatever that street is, avoiding the steel plates. I took a left at the harbor and stopped at the Civil War Trail sign at Jones Falls. I think. I followed the signs to Fells Point, because everyone keeps telling me to go there, and they were right. I stopped along the way to read about Civil War history and the Katanya Massacre–the Poles are an impressive people–and then I was in Boston. Or Fells Point. I snapped this picture at the end of the pier, happy to have a view unimpeded by the Rusty Scupper, the Ritz Carleton development, and those dragon boats–an excellent reminder that Baltimore is still a working harbor for the military and industry. I was wilting, but there was Christopher, selling two bottles of water for a dollar, and I chugged them down in front of the building where apparently some bright minds dreamt up the television programme, Homicide. Maybe I should watch that. Anyway. Then it was time to ride in the general direction I thought I was going, and suddenly I was at Patterson Park, so I did a loop. My host lives just past the park, so I figured I would make it home if I just kept riding. Yeah, a rectangle has four sides, which means eight ways to be “just past the park,” and all I remembered was that I was looking for a street whose name had historical resonance that I found interesting–I need to write stuff down! I rode around hoping I’d find my bearings, eventually giving up and checking my smartyphone’s map. Yeah, it’s the other way. I pedaled slowly uphill till I made it to Potomac Street, took a right, and was home for the day. I have so much getting lost in my future. Lucky, lucky me.

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View of the Inner Harbor From Federal Hill

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I woke up this morning feeling like I’d been hit by a truck, or maybe thrown from my bike due to a pothole. Ugh. I am sore. But I want to explore Baltimore by bike, and I have no self-control, so after a leisurely brunch in Charles Village, I slowly pedaled my way down to the Inner Harbor where I decided to go ahead and join the Aquarium, envisioning a future where sometimes I ride my bike downtown and check out the jellyfish. I locked up to a rack and headed inside. The place was absolutely packed, and I was feeling a little scrambled-egg in the head, so I just tripped around, wondering why they have to make the jellyfish room feel like a gay dance club–is that what it takes to lure the Kids Today? After a silent promise to never return there on a Sunday afternoon, I pedaled over to the American Visionary Arts Museum to redeem my fast-expiring interwebz coupon. Other than the room of art inspired by bathroom humor, the place was amazing, especially the room filled with wind-up machines–come to town and we’ll go. I had a bowl of fruit and a mimosa in the restaurant before heading up Federal Hill for a view of the harbor. I snapped this picture before reading up; apparently, this is a massive earthwork built by Union soldiers after Benjamin Butler secured Baltimore for the North. In New Orleans, Benjamin Butler represents all the monarchical aspirations of the Yankees, but, as Ranger Davon Williams from Fort McHenry told me when I inquired about their baffling movie, every tells stories in their own way. I pedaled slowly uphill back to K. and N.’s, looking forward to putting some ice on some things and eating the blackberry cobbler they report is in the oven. They are the hosts with the most, for sure. I’m glad I just got back on the bike today.

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Bike Rack at St. Paul & Madison

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So I’m one of those people who gets the credit card because of the points promotions and orders the Groupon for the furniture store in Baltimore when she knows she’ll be moving there in six months. That meant a ride to Belvedere Square today to spend that $200. I don’t know my way around, not at all, so I ended up on a busy street that I knew would take me generally in the right direction. Gears, people, I need more gears, and I need my bike seat back–the chafing!–but I happily made it in under thirty minutes. Short trips are best made by bike, no matter where you are. I am so going to be able to bike this town, and that feels so good. Oh, and the uphill on the way there meant flying downhill on the way home. After a stop at K. and N.’s for a futile wait on the new landlord, I was back on the bike for a trip to Red Emma’s and their veggie banh mi. I locked up my rental bike to this cool bike rack in the shape giant chain links. The problem with the artistic bike rack, though, is it often isn’t entirely functional, and this one suffers from that as well. U-lock and cable kept my bike safe, though, until my ride home. Pedal, pedal, pedal up Eager Street, and then I caught a pothole. Time slowed, long enough for me to think about how I almost fell, and then to feel myself falling, wondering why I couldn’t stop it. And my first crash in Baltimore is under my belt. I scrambled out of the street, let that driver who kindly asked know that I was ok, and got back on the bike to get home and scrub, scrub, scrub. I’ve got impressive bumps on elbows and knees, but the good part of falling on a bike is remembering that those small falls will happen, and they just aren’t that big of a deal–just get back on the bike, you’re ok. And you’ve got to learn your potholes. And now, more ibuprofen.

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The Star-Spangled Banner On Screen at Ft. McHenry National Monument and Shrine

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I had nothing to do on this lovely day in Baltimore, so I spent my morning checking out the Walters Art Museum–beautiful–and doing a quick tour of the Pratt Libraray main branch–I had to ask at the desk if it was really the public library, it was so nice (it is, and according to E., everybody loves that library). K. then picked me up, showed me the Peabody Library, which totally looks like Hogwarts, and then to lunch. And then it was time to take a bike ride. I tossed my National Parks passport in my bag and rode downhill to Fort McHenry, home of the star-spangled banner. That was a lot of downhill riding, and what goes down must go up. Pedal, pedal, pedal, would I be able to make it back up? But first, a tour of my first Mid-Atlantic NPS site for my first Mid-Atlantic NPS passport cancellation stamp. This site was crazy, which I should have guessed, what with it being called a national shrine. I have been to a lot of parks and museums that represent America to itself, but nothing quite as full-on patriotic. I swear, the flag threw up all over that place. I pushed through the crowds–so many people!–and read all about the War of 1812 with barely a mention of the Battle of Orleans; Chalmette National Battlefield is making a very different argument about the meaning of the war, but I digress. Then the movie started. You really just have to see it, watch the flashes from above signifying bombs bursting in air, the flags-in-light disco-balling at our feet, and closing with this giant flag and the swelling tones of our National Anthem. And then the screen slowly rose, revealing a bank of windows, and were gazing upon the Fort itself and Our Flag proudly waving, as it has done since that fated night. And then I remembered to stand up and headed out, did a tour of the Fort itself, and then it started raining. And it was time to ride home, in the rain, uphill. It was a slow slog, but it felt so, so good. God, I can’t wait to have my bike here.

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Cloudy Skies and Power Lines From a Charles Village Patio

I woke up this morning in Baltimore, in a giant bed in a slightly run down but bargain basement hotel, and my first thought was about riding a bike. I’ve been staring at googleymaps of bike routes for months now, and I’m finally here–time to ride some roads. Continue reading →

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NOPD Shirts For Sale at the Station on Royal Street

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Today’s ride took me Uptown from my current digs in the Marigny for lunch with N. and then to the office where I took care of last minute things for my trip to Baltimore tomorrow. I had meant to also stop by the courthouse as the Danziger trial started again, but the skies opened up and kept me and my bicycle in the office for most of the afternoon. I rode home under crazy thundering skies, stopping for a treat and then coffee with S. I had a bee in my bonnet about how little I have been taught about Frederick Douglass–he was one of our premier statesman! Why don’t they teach us that in schools!–and she filled in some blanks for me–friends, man, they’re the best. After a quick stop at home to get the cat out of the rain, I was back on the bike to meet R. and her kid for dinner. I pedaled up Royal as fast as I could to beat the rain, just stopping to take a picture of this sign outside the 8th District police station. T-shirts for sale? Really? I wonder who buys such things, and if the market’s been hit by the fallout from Danziger or Henry Glover or the cops arrested during their own prostitution stings (I thought we had decided to decriminalize!) or the other cops giving instructions to keep a special eye on all the Black men in town for Essence Fest or any of the other scandals showing this to be one of the most corrupt forces in the nation. Nah, I’ll pass on the shirt. After dinner I did my loop around the Bywater, deftly avoiding collision with that driver taking a left turn in front of me at the intersection of Poland and St. Claude. Look alive, people. It’s dangerous out there, but that’s no reason to stay off your bicycle.