hit by a Ruddy great car.
ok, nudged persistently by a car, but prone to histrionics as i am, it should be No surprise to anyone that i was Just as angry as if i had been hit by one.
left my house to bike down to the distillery to be one of the stiltwalkers in the first night new years parade. i admit to feeling somewhat apprehensive as i contemplated the cobblestones down there and melting patches of ice due to warm warm weather. it's been a while since i've been up...jack of all trades that i am and master of...sigh...none.
could this be the night that i fall shamelessly from my high sticks? make that fateful tumble, rendering me incapable of my bartending duties at passe muraille to ring in the new year?
i pictured myself for a moment, lying prone in the middle of the cobblestones, papier mache hat askew, shiny fabric from my cape soaked through with blood, leg bent at an angle grievously contrary to my delicate frame, moaning slightly but steadfastly optimistic as the paramedics make their way through the revelling crowds to spirit me away.
north-east corner of parliament and mill streets. a woman in front of me ready to turn north onto parliament. i have the right of way but i decide to be magnanimous. i stand and wait...she's looking in the other direction. tick tick tick. i'm standing still, she's standing still, the light is mine...sod it, deary, it's but hours before the year is out, let's get on with it, shall we? i put foot to my pedal, and CHRIST ON A BICYCLE SO DOES SHE. inches forward, hood of her car over my foot, my wheel MY WHEEL FOR THE LOVE OF GODS STOP WOMAN!
it was Really strange. i started, she started, so i stopped, she didn't. as i stood there, too stupid to jump back (well, jump back with my bicycle?) all i could think was to lean my bicycle towards the street, so that it didn't get crushed by the hood of her car.
i think the wheel is fine. i was so in shock i yelled "THAT'S WHAT GREEN LIGHTS ARE FOR, LADY!" and biked away, but if the wheel is out of true, she will wreak my bloody vengeance in hell.
when i get there.
the parade itself went fine, ironically enough...Complete trepidation as i was rallied around on three-footers by the Tempestuous winds, but when the samba squad started playing somehow it was all fine, and we danced our way through the distillery, ushering in the new year at 7.30pm.
ever ahead of time, i took off before the countdown to make my way to the bar.
which also, i must say, was a glorious success.
what Good Awesome human beings i'm surrounded by. people drink, they sing, they play music, they revel, they discuss their projects in the corner with adrenaline and excitement like they've got Something earth-shattering, and, in a very real way, they Do. the schedules are made, the technicians and space are booked, rehearsals start next week. everyone speaks in verbs here. verbs and mutual respect.
there were a few crashers this year, as obvious as the bruises on a redneck's wife. the only Assholes there. one was so drunk he Threw his empty cup over the bar.
"DON'T throw things at us" i said, LIVID.
he paused, discombobulated.
"it's NOT a clever thing to Piss off the people serving you drinks."
he stood there and stood there, his entreaties ignored, until he pulled out his wallet and started emptying money into the tip jar.
"THAT'S MORE LIKE IT." i said, clearing the counter and pouring Myself a shot of tequila.
happy new year, miz lenk.