Tonigght was my worst incidence of drunk cycling. I’m normally a total pussy about the roads. I cycle on the footpath and cycle lanes. I’m one of those freaky people who didn’t know how to ride a bike. I was an adult- I didn’t know how to ride a bike. I learnt last year. So forgive me for being such a lame ass on the roads. It takes time.
And tonight I was at a casual dinner type thing with family and a few friends… suffice it to say, drink was imbibed and I cycled home like a motherfucking hero. I pedaled like I had thighs of steel. I swerved around corners like someone who wasn’t wearing hot pants with bare legs. I went so fucking fast… It was awesome. Hobos, huddled in alcoves, asked themselves whether I should be considered bird or plane. Prostitutes on their corners with phones held to their ears grinned and sidestepped as I whooshed on by. I felt a freedom better than nudity…. but not as good as swimming.
I saw a van parked on the footpath. There was a good… or so I judged it… three metres between the van’s rump and the wall. I angled myself like a fucking pro. I marvelled at how great I am at bicycling after just 9 months.
I crashed into the van. Landed in a heap of shock and scrapes….
The prostitutes didn’t come to my assistance. I was regretting the hot pants. I’m all grazed and shit. My beautiful legs… My knees hurt. I’m pretty drunk. Wine really creeps up on you- oh fuck I’m in pain. This is a grower too, it’s going to be worse tomorrow. I just know it. I don’t know how I thought that was wide enough for me to pass through. Even sober, wobbling five centmetres would be enough to land me square ino the foucking van. I picked my bike up, hope there’s nothing wrong with it. I don’t know bikes. I don’t know what can be wrong with a bike. I give it a shake. It seems fine, in that shit isn’t falling off it. I get back on my trusty steeed and depart again. I quickly pick up speed to avoid the shame of everyone who saw me snot myself.
I get back on the footpath. Roads are too much right now. I come to a three part intersection- I don’t know what the fuck they are called really. A big fat bastard of a busy road with two platforms in it for crossing, and the green light for pedestrians and bikes only lasts long enough to sprint across. I for some reason decide to break my rule about not breaking red lights. I cross to the first island. Half way across the lane and I realise a car is heading straight for me. I panic and my foot goes down, midway across. My shoe comes off. Stupid pretty but impractical shoes. I hobble with my bike clutched to my crotch… I make it across the road. The car has stopped. It stays there with its green light. oh the fucking shame, it’s waiting for me to go back for my shoe. I extract myself from my bike and return to the middle of the road and pick up my shoe. I get back to my bike. I fall a little trying to get back on it. My shoe isn’t on properly, it falls off again. The car is judging me. I wait for the green. It takes forever. I get home.
I will not drunk cycle again.