yes, i'm afraid it's another bicycle story.

prefaced by a saturday night realization that no matter how Cool what the cool kids are doing sounds, i'm just not the disco party type. i Planned to go, i was excited to go, and then, as usual , i just didn't feel like it.
not to mention the fact that the closest i could come to a disco costume was a 7 year old self-made poodle skirt with a huge superman emblem embroidered onto its front, and some highly unfortunate fluorescent hair elastics.

strangely, the only problem with me Not being into cool events is my seeming complete inability to be Cool with not being cool. i skip them, have a lovely evening at the cineemah or reading (surprise surprise) a book, and then beat my psyche senseless for not getting out more.
so, in a remarkably progressive move, i forewent miring myself in regret for missing the chance to hang out with fellow schoolmates and revelling in debauchery, and contented myself with a comic artists' show opening at propeller (quality) followed by soup as big as your head in chinatown with true compadres.

as we left the restaurant i saw some guy across the street hammering away at a bike lock.

Karma, dear readers, was not just calling, Karma had come Right up to me, hiked its shirt 'round its neck to get my attention, and was now beckoning me to cross forth and do my bit for the fellow victims of imminent bike theft in this city.

i ran across the street and asked said individual if this was his bicycle.
of course it was. hammer hammer.
"then why don't you have a key for it?"
"i lost it"
"whose bike is this then?" (beckoning to another bicycle next to him.)
"mine."
"oh i see. you have two bikes. are you going to ride both of them home at once?"
"yes."
"how clever."
"look." at this point mister bike thief with the ratty old trucker hat and unfortunate proboscis has abandoned his task and walked 'round the bike to threaten me vaguely with his hammer. "why don't you fuck off and mind your own business?"
while it's true that i aspire to be a renegade saviour of bikes, even Karma wouldn't begrudge me the need to save my fine features from a shameless beating with a metal hammer.
so i turned on my heel and marched right back across the street into the restaurant and called the cops. kari, bless her, came with me. but while i was giving the officer a short summation of the circumstances, mister thief seemed to be packing up.
"well, (said the cop on the other end of the line) is he taking the bike?"
(me) "i'm not sure...hang on a sec"
"well?"
"he's loitering, hang on"
"is he taking the bike?"
"i'm sorry, but i can't speed him up on his mission, i just don't know....ah, it seems he is not. we have thwarted him and i'm wasting your time. very sorry."
"oh, that's okay."
i hung up the phone with a chuckle, the guy gets on his first bicycle and turns a corner RIGHT INTO an oncoming cop car. Yes Yes YES. two officers promptly get out and begin grilling him. FANTASTIC.

now THIS, dear reader(s), is MY ideal saturday night. cheap thrills, if ever there were any.