So I'm sipping a coffee this morning at Butter, where I decide to pick up the latest issue of the Southwest Journal. Who's on the cover but our own Gene, accompanied with Fred and Shaun riding down Hennepin; it's a question and answer from these three on the future of bicycling in the city. Somewhere in there Gene veers off into a tangent discussing how we need to license bicycles and their riders - not sure what chemical he's on during this interview, but I can't say I'm a fan of re-instating a mandatory bicycle license, for one it gave the cops a legal reason to confiscate your bike while you're on it - a tactic used in several critical mass rides (a gathering in which I do not endorse) a few years ago. No, I don't think we need to give the cops any more reason to eff with us when they're having a pissy day - see Christine's story here (bottom letter) about her husband getting violently tackled off his bike while riding down Nicollet mall.
So it's bike to work week - how time flies, seems like just a year ago.
Okay, so what happened Monday night? Rode the new steel Gary Fisher (pics at a later date) to see the The Kills/Horrors at First Avenue. I wasn't around long before FacePlant hands me a beer for my second hand, moments before the Miller High Life girls show up, swag in tow! Have I gone to heaven? Yes, quite likely. So after I finish my non High Life products, they buy me a couple of 16-ouncers, shortly before I score a sweet hat and a 12-pack beer coozie - all without having to redeem any of my hard earned points, which I'm still collecting by the way. Note to self: wear more eyeliner on the next visit to First Avenue.
Sunday is the Pigs Eye Punisher, with ride organizer Brauer Power. I'll be out of town for this, the Almonzo 100, and the Pepin tour - dang it to heck.
My Electric Fetus story. So Melissa and I walk into the Electric Fetus on Saturday, I check my bag at the front counter, give a hello to the frequent counter guy, who recognizes me. I walk into the store and the alarm goes off, you know the one that tells them I'm stealing patchoulli and CD's from their store - but the alarm goes off on the way into the store. The front clerk says it's okay, and I remind him it happened to me once before - they had waved me in saying that it happened sometimes. But this time another man comes around the corner donning shorts and shaved ankles. He tells me this is a problem and we need to fix it, it will only take a few minutes, probably some new clothing I just purchased - not likely, as I scan down at the thrift store outfit I'm modeling. So he wants me to take out my wallet, that's the likely cause - I do so and reluctantly walk back through the security gate, setting off the alarm again. The guy starts talking about what else we can do, though I'm not really listening - do you want me to take off all my clothes? I know I must be living in a pre-9/11 world, but I don't like to be treated like a thief when I haven't even walked into your store yet. Am I supposed to put up my arms and have this guy pat me down, John Ashcroft-homeland security style? There are other record stores in town and I tell this guy my business could be used elsewhere. Off I went to Treehouse, where I put my bag behind the counter and sorted through the records, where I was treated as a law abiding citizen.