Writing with Rox WEEKLY—What are we, Stupid?

There's next to nothing I enjoy more than a bike ride on a summer night in the Midwest. It must kinesthetically resemble womb-time, what with the perfect float I fall into on darkening nights, with those wide open streets, cicadas and azure bellied insects echoing like a singing bowl, the neon ring guiding my way, bugsong, in the black of night. To that, add the Midwestern moon (we don't have moons like this where I come from; heck, I don't think LA has a moon), humidity hugging me like the Santa Annas I remember from childhood, yet with the speed and breeze of the wind on my bike, I am heaven in motion.  Here it is like no other place I have lived and I cannot get enough. I could easily—easily—bike endlessly into this evergiving night.

On these particlar summer nights, all my fears and worries fall away. Love is the only answer on these nights. All else is just petty. My heart blossoms, the world is completely loving, forgiving, enchanted.  One such recent night, this past Friday, after an amazing dinner at Fujiya in the tatami room to celebrate a friend's birthday, Two Cute Face and I sailed the Uptown seas, before cutting down 31st street, arriving shoreside at Lake Calhoun. We took up the path toward home, following the lower curve along the Parkway. Here, giddy from Mojitoes, yellow tail, and laughing with friends, we paused to look at the stars rising above the lake, noticing a particularly bright, bright star that neither of us recognized. Seriously. This was a star. The kind that twinkles and sprouts in five directions. The movie kind. "I don't think I've ever seen a star like that before," we both said, "is that a planet? What is that?"

Then, another appeared in the southwestern corner of the lake. But wait, it was coming right toward us. What is that? Are we still in the Perseids? Are we in a dream? 

Of course all too soon we realized it was an airplane, then another, but on this particular happy night on our bikes, we concluded that the advantage to being "right brained" and not knowing a lot about how the nitty gritty scientific world works is that we get to live in a world where (most) anything is possible! "A state of wonder," Too Cute Face said, as we left the planes and the stars and the other unknowns over the Uptown lake.

Of course living in such a state, some might argue,  has its disadvantages because it can lead to rule bending. As we headed back up Calhoun and cut over to Lake Harriet, winding blindly up and down the roller coaster hills leading to the bandshell, we descended upon the wild rumpus that was letting out  (outdoor movies in the park!) and to avoid the masses of people, we ended up taking the walking path around the outside of the biking path for a few short pedals before skipping tracks back to the bike path. Going the wrong way. 

Now. I know what you're going to say. I know what you're thinking. It's not like I haven't thought it myself. But here's the thing: We were tired. It was late. No one was on the path, save for a few stray walkers, who when we politely excused ourselves as we came through, apologized for being in the middle of the bike path (might I add, walking the wrong way, as well) to which we said something like "no worries, thank you, thanks, good night!" before pedaling cautiously down a few more blocks before turning off at 47th street. Did I mention it was 11:30 pm? 

So just before we turn off, out of nowhere comes this thundering buzz kill, shouting at us from the street. Well you know who I'm talking about. There's always one of them. So, he says, this bully of a buzz kill on a bike, says he, "You're going the wrong way... You're going the wrong way on the bike path. You're going the wrong way!!" 

Best strategy for me in this case is always to ignore it. What am I, ten? What is he the hall monitor? Even when the hall monitor goes on and on, long after he's out of range about "you are also breaking the law!! Which is dangerous. And stupid. And totally disrespectful and...               "

Suffice it to say, we got off the path unscathed, save for the buzz kill. "And peace to you, Brother as well," Too Cute said, joining me in the wide open street toward home. 

"Seriously!" I said. "What's the deal with that?" Of course I was gungho to launch into my tirade about over-the-top bikers who follow all the damn rules and outlandish "cars are coffins" politics who make it miserable for the rest of us bikers, etc, etc, but Too Cute, being Too Cute, took another approach. "I mean, really, where's the Good Will anymore? What happened to kindness? Compassion? How about instead of shouting at us, just say, "Hey, be careful, just so you know, you're on a one-way path... Wouldn't that be a better approach?"

Really. It's not like we're out to run into people. What's all the excitement about? Since when did we all become so f'ing mean when things don't go our way or when others are behaving in ways that don't coincide with ours and/or the masses behavior. What's all the anger about? What's wrong with us? What are we, stupid? Er, oops, is there something about kindness we seem to be forgetting?

Write with me? 
When was a time you were the biker? Or me and Too Cute Face? 
How do you see the world wondrously? 
What do you live for in the summertime? 
Anything else?!