Ice Queen

On account of running late and being sleep-deprived, as usual, I made a series of wrong choices this morning.
First, the skirt I wore was not one I'd cycled in before. This was a minor nuisance as it cut into my mobility a little. Still, being stubborn and not having time to really change into anything better in less than two minutes, I worked through this. The bag I brought was also not the greatest to hold onto while riding, but again, I was mostly thinking about what would be convenient for the longest amount of time during the day. This purse has lots of zippered pockets including one that's large enough to hold my camera. I was aiming for something that would keep my keys, debit card, and bus ticket secure all day long. The worst choice was simply forgetting the grab my gloves. By the time this was apparently a problem, I did not have time to turn around. I ended up stopping twice on my 8-10 minute ride so that I could attempt to revive my fingers.


See, while it is less expensive for me to travel to New York than to the other side of Hartford, the Megabus waits for no one. The drivers are not vile, obnoxious people who routinely force cyclists into unsafe situations. If I tried to cut off one of them, they'd no doubt stop and check on my safety...but like hell would they let me on the bus after the scheduled departure time has arrived. It's frustrating, sure, but I admire it.

My admiration was a bit fuzzy, though, as I attempted to lock up my bike as quickly as possible. It's hard to do this with fingers that are alternately numb and painful. I must've looked like a dope fumbling with my helmet, unable to get it to release because I could not feel where the release-thingie was. A group of college-aged boys stared at me during all this, and not in the "hey, check out that awesome babe" kind of way. It was more like "Gawd, I hope she doesn't sit anywhere near us." Don't worry boys. I'm old enough to be your mother and that cougar thing is played out.

Meanwhile, my fingers are still not coming back to life and I'm feeling nauseous, which is to say, status quo these days (except for the fingers). The thought occurs that I should just cut my losses and go to the doctor instead of New York City. My lack of health insurance and possible frostbitten brain convinced me instead to go to New York anyway. If nothing else, I'd experience a different type of hospital. I also convinced myself that my grandfather must've gotten frostbite when he'd go hunting. Oh, were you looking for logic in there? My grandfather died a decade ago, he was a boxer and had been shot, and was basically way more hardcore than me. Not the best point for comparison.

So, I'm sitting on the bus while it loads, looking like a maniac probably because I kept pinching and wiggling my fingertips. Some blonde woman who sounded like she'd done a few lines of coke with her breakfast asked to sit next to me. And then, mind you, at not-quite-6:30-in-the-morning, continued to keep talking. She finally got the hint (6:30 is for sleeping on the bus) and moved away. The rest of the trip down was uneventful unless you count the emergency stop in the median and then the person directly in front of me violently and loudly puking into a plastic bag for about an hour and fifteen minutes. I so wish that I was exaggerating.

As the bus made its way through Harlem I began noticing the many remnants of stolen bikes. A u-locked wheel here. A frame there. It did not seem unreasonable that when I returned to Hartford I would find my own bike in some stage of being stripped down. After all, I used only one lock -- a combo one -- and given my delirium/numbness, it was possible that I had not even bothered to do that right.

While I wandered around searching high (Bergdorf Goodman) and low (H&M) for a damn pair of gloves or mittens, I noticed two things. First, even though it was chilly and still winter, I was expecting to see far more cyclists in Manhattan. It's NY, for chrissakes! You all are supposed to be tough as spit and mean as nails. Sure, by Hartford standards, there were multitudes of cyclists...in Central Park. But I did not come close to being run over or even grazed by a cyclist once, and trust, after the craptastic way my day began, if it could've happened, it would've. And two, I ended up buying the most bootleg (and overpriced for what they are) pair of glove-mittens from a street vendor because even though it's still cold enough to wear gloves, it's not cold enough to continue selling them in most stores, even in the ones that find it reasonable to charge $650 for a pair of ballet flats.


After a long bit of being creepy and taking pictures of strangers riding bikes or making wardrobe adjustments, I decided to move on out of Central Park, even if it did provide the most diverse group of people for that aforementioned people-watching. Unlike my excursion last year around this time, I was not as envious of those with wheels. Maybe my still-frozen fingertips had something to do with this, or maybe I was just wearing more comfortable footwear that did not make me instantly long to sit down. Since I don't have a folding bike, I might not get to know the joy of riding through Central Park. It seems silly to rent a bike, particularly after viewing what was available -- rides sized really wrong in some cases.

What the rental bikes have that my own Starry Bike does not is a basket. In most cases, that's fine. I've got panniers, but again, this morning was not the time to search for my other lock and figure out how to secure the pannier to the bike all day long. This would have helped immensely for my ride home, which involved not just the awkward purse, but a bag full of stuff and things acquired during the day. The awkwardness was the least of my problems when I got back to Hartford. The bike was still there and it appears that everything that should be on it is. The trouble was that after being on a bus for three hours and in various states of consciousness, I, of course, ran into a friend who rides surprisingly fast as hell. Since he mocks the law by not using lights at night, I felt obligated to keep up and light the way. My fingers were much warmer on the ride home, thanks to the gloves (that with my luck are probably infested with bed bugs).

Lessons Learned Today

• wear gloves
  
• don't try out different fashion choices before sunrise
  
• if someone is clutching a plastic bag on the bus, do not sit near her
  
• bring that ugly nylon backpack thing for trips that may involve shopping. It'll make the lugging of stuff home later easier, and it never needs to come out of the purse until you're back on the bus anyway.
  
• do not allow solo travelers to strike up conversation with you. They are all crazy and will tell you things about their families you do not need to know. Talk to the homeless guys instead.
  
• you're not supposed to grab the bread rolls in fancy restaurants. You point, and then the waiter tongs them for you. The $12 glass of wine should tip you off to this type of protocol.
  
• locate locks, ugly helmet that you won't cry about if it gets stolen, and lights at NOT quarter to six in the morning

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Critical Turkey Mass, this friday!

[please imagine a witty flyer of some sort is this here space. perhaps a street full of turkeys riding bicycles and drinking tropical drinks...

i really thought i'd find time before arriving back in the 'beat to make a snazzy flyer, or at least one of my usual bootleg ones, but its hard to do that while traveling sometimes. especially if staying with the ECT pedicab peeps in Columbus where sleep and sobriety were not options!]

!!Critical Turkey!! It has seemed like a great idea to me for months as I looked forward to returning to Hartford for a few weeks and doing the ride with a boom box blasting tropical tunes. And then i arrived to grey skies and rain. blahhhhh!!!!

Sooo..... critical mass? maybe? The weather forecast as of 6pm Thursday calls for a Friday 6pm temp of 42 and rainy and feelin' like its 33. fuckshitdamn! that prolly ain't gonna work. perhaps we'll get a break from mother nature and if not, perhaps the ride will be very short and simply make a break for the nearest bar?
who knows? but as long as it ain't coming down too hard, i hope too see a motley crew of stubborn bike riders! Read more!

late, late night ride and drive through drama

Any ride starting at 12:20am at the North Main Street entrance to Keney Park is pretty much expected to be interesting. I left Babaganush's house in Frog Hollow in a rush after a grueling, great, but losing table tennis match. North Main Street's clubs and bars were bustling with people. Seemed like everyone was having a fun, peaceful night. I arrived late to Keney Park. A tall person in a white T lingered in the darkness next to the entrance gate. He called out to me! Whew... it was Joel and he was full of stories of the randomn crazy shit he had watched while waiting for me.

"Where we riding?"

"I dunno, where do you want to go?"

"I don't care, but I'm kinda hungry. I want food. Or maybe a Frosty!"

Yep, conversations like that can only lead to dumb ideas. Joel suggested Wendy's at Buckland Hills. And with that, we took off to cross the river on the 291 Bridge. What a great ride. I got my ass handed to me several times on several hills, but loved every minute of it. Joel kept exclaiming how we were geniuses for riding at night, the coolest time of the day. It was hilarious! "WIll, we're freakin' geniuses! Everyone should be out right now! We're freakin' geniuses! Geniuses!" Too, too funny. And totally, completely true!

With Joel as a trusted guide, we wound through East Hartford and Manchester and finally arrived at Wedny's. I rode to the drive through window. A man sweeping kinda ignored me until I asked, "Are y'all open?"

"yeah...for cars!" He replied, smiling, but serious.

"Huh? Dude, I just rode here from Hartford C'mon now, hook me up!"

He consulted with a manager out of my view and quickly got permission to serve me. After taking my order and money I asked if i should pedal up to the next window. He cracked up and said yes. All worked out, but really!?!? Really Mr. Man at Wendy's!? Its onefrreakingthirty in the morning...so what if I am on a bicycle?!?!?

We ate. We joked. Joel seriously suggested some exploring. I seriously wanted a hammock. We retraced our steps most of the way. We parted ways at the East entrance of the pedestrian ramp in...in...I dunno. East Hartford or South Windsor? We actually got a bit lost and rode into SW for a ways before making a u-turn and figuring things out. Joel crossed the Connecticut River on 291 and went home. I decided to avoid the North End at this crazy hour and pedal South through East Hartford and cross at the Buckley Bridge.


Crossing at 2:56AM! What a random ride for crappy fast food. This is summer in Hartford to me. Fun rides with friends for no real reason. Life is wonderful.

By the way, if anyone reading this will be in Columbus Ohio tonight in the Short North, gimma a holla if you need a ride. I'll be pedicabbing for my friends' company; ECT Pedicabs! Holla!





And here is the rest of it.


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The Space Shuttle is in town! and other weirdness

Last Friday I caught a glimpse of what seemed to be the Space Shuttle driving down Duval Street. The spacecraft was a little smaller than expected; but the tailfin and color scheme is pretty dang recognizable. It must have been it, but I couldn’t get my camera out fast enough; that thing is a freakin’ rocket ya know. A few hours later I took the above picture, catching the ship moments after it safely sopped at a stop sign and continued along down South Street. I did see the Space Shuttle…I did! I did!



Houston, we have contact! I saw the Space Shuttle again, at 12:00, heading straight for me with nothing more than a mere double yellow line separating us from a deadly head-on collision! I quickly pulled over and parked my pedicab and snapped a few photos as the ship slowed and stopped next to me. The pilot said he saw me snapping photos earlier and asked if I wanted a postcard. Hells yeah! Nice people.

I learned that the Shuttlevan hangers in Texas and was built to celebrate 25 years of flight. There’s even a 1,700 watt fog production machine! Check the website!


Six or Seven years ago I was riding my bicycle down Greene Street and strangely heard a piano approaching me from behind. I turned to see a man in the middle of the street alternately pushing a piano on wheels from behind and then playing it from the side as it rolled. I took a quick photo and have never forgotten the sight. I have no idea of the what and the why. A few days ago I saw what must be the same guy and the same piano on Duval! He wasn’t playing it this time, only pushing it down the street. I love this town.


I saw these two Konas with crazy camo tires one night after sloppyhour. Pretty sweet.


Another wonderful night at the parrot. John’s singlespeed and my fixie. Let the revolution begin!

Want more photos? More bicycles? Want to see the newest fixie on the island, built just days ago? And welcome a new Surly to the neighborhood, a sweet Traveler’s Check? Click on read more and enjoy more bikeporn my dear blog reader(s).




Eddie, dayshift manager of Perfect Pedicab, just finished building his first fixie. Its got some aggressive geometry and begs to be ridden fast. Great job dude! Get some straps already!


And Eddie’s the very proud new owner of a Surly Traveler’s Check. He travels a lot and enjoys bringing a bike along for transportation and adventure. I think he's also doing some kind of hypnotism shit with his eyes too.


Another sexy shot of the frame in detachment action. 


This man rides around town on his trike pulling a trailer and sells mangos, coconuts, avacados and other yummies. Roy stopped him the other night infront of our apartments for a few tomatoes.



The funny thing is that the tongue weight of the trailer causes the trike to do a wheelie whenever he dismounts. Pretty funny scene every time I see him.
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A Rollerskating Jam called Saturday

Saturday, Saturday, it’s a Saturday.
5 whole days of work and one whole day to play

De La Soul knew what was up, but my pedicab shift on Saturday was the farthest thing from work and yet I got Paid in Full. The line between work and fun is completely blurred, perhaps even eradicated, on days like this.

I was craving sausage gravy and biscuits even before getting on the saddle and pulling out of Perfect Pedicab and onto Whitehead Street. A short ride across Old Town to my other job, a restaurant called Turtle Kraals, ensured I was well fed thanks to my employee discount. Thrifty and tastey, yeah, that’s how I’m rollin’. Luann, the morning bartender, asked me to take her visiting parents on a tour later and paid me in advance. Sweeet. I hooked her up with a deal and left feeling good; not even 11AM yet and I already made bike rent. ahhhh, a great way to start the day.


It was a super slow morning spent mostly at the South end of Duval on the Atlantic Ocean side of the island. This is a wonderful spot to chill, relax and wait for a fare. Lots of people walk the full mile and half or so all the way down Duval, to see the Southernmost Point buoy; and then feel all lazy about walking back. A ride in a pedicab, especially with cocktail in hand, is a wonderful way to get back to Mallory Square, Sloppy Joe's or wherever you want to be next back in Old Town. Some say Duval Street is the longest mainstreet in the world as it streaches from the Gulf of Mexico to the Atlantic Ocean!


Jason and Mikeeee getting some needed rest. Friday was a looong night. The pictures in the background are by Bob. He spends the morning and afternoon painting as his artwork hangs behind him on the fence in the great gallery of the island shoreline. Dozens of people pass by every five minutes speaking in all sorts of accents and languages. The cool ocean breeze always compliments the contrasting rays of the strong tropical sun. There’s usually a few of us here reading, resting or entertaining ourselves and the tourists.


Jeff’s secret to success…the pig helmet cover!


So today is Thursday and I am trying to remember the details that made Saturday so amazing to finally finish this post. But I can’t remember the specific things, it was just a really great day. Sunny with a nice, cool breeze. Occassional white, fluffy clouds provided brief patches of wonderful shade. It began slow, but as it progressed, I got a lot of rides that were fun and tipped well. I had a great time bugging out and chillin’ with the other riders. Everything and everyone was just on the One.



Kapsis giving his sweetie Barbara a ride home. These two are waaay too cute and in love. He’s always blowing kisses from his pedicab to her as she works at a restaurant’s outdoor patio. The Ohio boys and I passed them enroute to happy hour. Yep, most places here do happy hour seven days a week. And the bars are open to four. But's that's a whole other post.


Happy Hour at Kelly’s. This certainly helped keep the great vibe going after work. Forget the fact it’s the original Pan-Am headquarters. Forget it’s owned by Maverick’s love intrest in Top Gun. Happy Hour is bangin'! $4 gets you a half dozen of some of the best wings on the island. $3 gets you a massive margarita. We had a lot of both.

Click read more to see the ridiculousness of getting a new printer home from New Town.






A bungee cord held it in place. I could steer holding just the box, but that was kinda scary and i didn't do it again. Ok, i did a few more times, and it was still scary! But, after living here since the first week week of January, I have only driven my van four times, three to go kayaking and once when I moved from Brian's couch to my apartment.



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suenalo!

Life is wonderful! I’m poor as hell, but so is most everyone else here right now. After pedicab shifts several of us walk across the street to the Green Parrot for free popcorn. Hungry, dirty, smelly, bicycle scavengers! Then its off to Cowboy Bill's happy hour for $1 yuenglings and PBR's.

Last Thursday I had a rare day off and went kayaking with the boys from Ohio. We basically just floated around the Gulf of Mexico between Key West and Stock Island, paddled to Cow Key Marina for a sixer and then floated to the Atlantic. A completely lazy afternoon under blue skies. I actually fell asleep in my ‘yak due to the sun and two beers. First time that ever happened. I liked it!

Riding around, both on the cab and my fixie, I see some strange, funny, beautiful, weird things. I most always take the full length of Duval Street on my ride home from the waiting gig. This is the main drag with about a million bars and another million tourist t-shirt shops. Its super fresh to see who’s pedaling and out and about and see how everyone's day went. Truly a wonderful, small town in many ways.


This guy rode up next to me near the end of my shift in front of The Bull. Moped? Check. Spear gun? Check. Time to get some dinner!


Mad props to this dude! I can’t wait to find out the whole story. This bike is flash! Wow. Airplanes can see this set-up! There’s fake fish in those tanks! And also some great beats you can’t hear in the photo!


Close up of the fish; and of course, blurry and out of focus as promised.

My new camera has died. But, as Coreylynn told me, the universe will give you what you need. So my old, dying camera that finally bit the dust when dropped into the water of a drainage tunnel under Oakland, is now working again. Yes, there’s a rubber band holding the battery door closed, but blurry photos are on and poppin’ again! Woo-haa! The Beat Bike Blog cannot be stopped!


Dozens of Civil War reenactment soilders paraded by Perfect Pedicab and the Parrot Saturday afternoon at the end of the dayshift. Amelia, I wish you were here this week. Civil War stuff, the Parrot and yep, it really does happen, Jimmy Buffet did a a very intimate, unannounced show at Margaritaville. Duval street was a mess!


Suenalo at the Parrot. Dang these guys are good. Wow! We caught their Saturday night set and both “soundcheck” sets on Sunday. Both night sets were packed with people dancing to the Latin grooves. The friday set prolly was too! Please, please, please check this 11 piece band out, Hotness! Soooo soooo much fun!


Here’s some randomn shit you see on a pedicab. Surfboard, paddle and snorkeling gear!

much more craziness after the jump...read more!





Here’s the Parrot and an idea of the bicycle situation here in Key West. All them bikes on the right are locked up to simple upside down “U” racks. These racks are everywhere on the island. Don’t worry, that motorcycle is only parking, no Harley Gangs terrorizing pedestrians!


Fellow pedicabbers; Roscoe of Serbia and Roy, a visiting pedicabber from Lauderdale/NYC, in deep conversation on Duval enroute to Cowboy Bill’s.


Between Suenalo sets on Saturday night we headed over to Cowboy Bill’s to see some peoples and check out the mechanical bull. There was some super thick fog smothering the city. This fog has been showing up the last few days and even the Conchs are having a hard time remembering the last time there was thick fog here. Freaky!


Suenalo, second set! What a freakin’ great time dancing and vibing to such amazing music and a great crowd. I can't say enough how much fun they were!


Monster and Roy and a lot of facial hair...I really don’t know what else to say!


Emily busting a few last moves before riding back to Mary Beth’s house. Everyone rides bicycles all the time here. Its beautiful! That building in the background is Perfect Pedicab! I can smell the popcorn at the Parrot when dropping off my trike at the end of a shift…Lucky!

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getting’ paid to ride!

Its official! I am a licensed and working pedicab driver...errr rider…make that pedaler! It’s pretty much a really super duper awesome job. I am working for Perfect Pedicab, which as glorious fate would have it, sits directly across the street from The Green Parrot, my favorite bar in the world (think Sully’s, but in the tropics). For the last three days, I have been riding up and down Duval Street picking up people, and pedaling them around while talking about the shitty weather back home and sharing crazy stories of Key West. At their destination, I drop off my passengers and they give me cash money! Money! For riding a bike and talking about interesting shit. I love this job!

Friday, being my first day, started with Kim training me on the trikes and reviewing the rules of the city pertaining to how to park, how to ride, where not to go and other buerocratic and safety type stuff. I also got a playful warning not to hit any parked cars!! (yep, its been done before) Then they let me loose on the streets of Key West. Woooo-haaaa!

My first fare was a mom and daughter from Chicago, who needed to make a stop to shop enroute to their hotel near the Southernmost Point. Another was a couple from Kentucky wanting to stay longer. Three 20somethings working on the Pearl, a rerouted cruise ship, were loving their unexpected trip to the island. Colorado, Australia, Bosnia, France, NYC, people from all over were excited for the ride and really enjoyed themselves. It felt great. I am getting paid to pedal, meet people from all over the world and tell stories. Sweeet! Well, except for the lack of insurance, no medical benefits and the pillaging I am doing to my bank account when grocery shopping. And slow days can really suck because each day starts in the red and only getting enough fares will get you into the black, and hopefully far enough to survive. But still, seemingly a super sweet gig for me, and I am absolutely, totally enjoying it.


"Coco frio!" Saturday’s highlight was meeting Manny, the coconut man. Towards the end of the work day, several of us were hanging out on Whitehead Street behind a pick-up truck full of coconuts and their delicious water. Manny was chopping one end, leaving a quarter-sized hole, perfect for drinking with a provided straw, or just straight up as we were…au natural. mmmm……. sooo fresh and sooo good. He’s a pretty freakin’ funny character. Tourists were all smiles with a well spent $3. Go check him out while in town. Manny, thanks for the hook up, I got you when you need that ride! "Only three coconuts left!"

Sunday. Day three. I now know where all the hills are on Duval, Fleming and Southard Streets. If you’ve been here, you prolly think it is flat. Shit! The highest point on the island is only 18 feet. But trust me, when pedaling three passengers you suddenly notice even the slightest slopes. Now it seems so obvious. Even with 21 speeds, I tend to stay in the middle chainring; occasionally using the large ring if I want some speed with an empty cab. 

Sunday was super slow. So slow, that the bored  strippers ladies from the Key West Entertainment Club, were in front of their building, on the sidewalk, with signs reading, “free hugs.” I love this town! My apologies for the lack of a photo...


click Read More
for some random photos I shot the last few days.




With temps in the 50’s at night and 60’s in the day due to the nasty cold front, I’ve been needing to wear a fleece and scarf with my shorts to keep warm. Very strange weather.


Last week I knew I was tempting fate as the laundrymat would close before my clothes were dry. AndIi was ok with that and prepared to leave with slightly wet clothes. As things turned out, the manager dude pulls up, talks to me and then starts explaining how to lock up the joint after I am done! This does not happen in Hartford...ever! Anyways, here's a pic of the laundrymat and mi bicicleta after locking up. Yeah, there are no windows, just security bars to try and keep it breezy.


A random colorful bike next to mine near sunset! Mallory Square Grouper...


A dude from NYC fishing at sunset. yep, we troll by bicycle in Key West!



My normal commute home from the big grocery store along a waterfront pedi/bicycle trail. 


The southernmost Menorah!


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