I swear the weather is trying to trick me. It isn’t even cold, though it looks like it should be. But I bundled up, strapped on my reflector and blinky light, and sweated my way up the hill to that bar in Hampden to meet a friend for a drink. On a school night. *Gasp*. When I first moved here, this short ride would take me 20 minutes, but now it only takes 10. Good thing I don’t mind being early, but it might be time to start admitting that I can get around town by bike with some speed. Or at least I should bring something to read, like this guy. Driving? That would have taken twice as long.
Today is one of those days that just runs away from you, best laid plans be damned. The bicycle rides have been similarly fruitless, first in the middle of a downpour after what otherwise was a positively lovely lunch with new friends I met too late and then this bike ride to the fancy bar on North Rampart to meet M., but it turns out we got our Mondays mixed up. I’m thinking we both have moving on the brain–she’s still in Georgia and I’m still in New Orleans and those facts can leave us a bit addled. Sigh. But that means I get to sit here and have a couple of drinks by myself while watching the place fill up. First it was the hipster couple–he knows a lot about what makes water carbonated. Then it was the woman with the book, waiting for her mess of friends–that table reminds me there’s a whole world of thirty something straight women I don’t know anything about, but I hope the sunglasses-on-the-head lady has a good blind date later, in spite of her headache. Then there were the tourists from New York by way of South Florida who are relating to our just-here-for-the-summer bartender until they started sharing pictures of their cats with me. I can totally play that game. And then the two guys on a date and the other hipsters and now the bar is full. Hi, everybody! Time to ride my bike home cheerfully in the after-rain, toss a salad and heat up a pizza, and watch some TV. Not a bad ending after all.
I rode my bike down to the Quarter tonight, hoping to see some Saints fans getting their party on after a nice win this afternoon. As I walked my bike down Bourbon Street I noticed quite a few Bush and Brees jerseys, and some folks decked out in Atlanta Hawks gear, but all in all, it seemed a quiet night. Continue reading
So I am back home in New Orleans and finding myself surprisingly sad. The only thing to do, of course, is ride the bicycle. Continue reading