Weekend Wanderer: Dangerous Bike Rides & Egg Salad

Adventurous bike rides to meet friends for a drink rarely turn out normal. Most people walk, drive, take an uber, subway to the hang out. The biker comes in having finished a real life peloton work out and saw some shit.

No one likes bikers, so as a guy whose middle name is Burneston, it’s another chance to be a part of a truly hated group. People will open their car doors on you, rolling stop into your back tire, block the entrance to the bike line. Pedestrians and cars align in they both root against bikers and the door dash all black bike uniform fellow bikers that run over pedestrians, shout and spill your food.

I rode my bike from Cobble Hill to the West Village Sunday, February 5, 2023 at 2:48 p.m. ET. Lungs and legs pounded up the lengthy Brooklyn bridge and breezed down into Chambers St before the West Side Highway. Tires rode through several coffee spills and puddles. We’re leaving the bike outside the apartment for a few days when this is over. The ride took 31 minutes.

I worked up enough of an appetite to drink 2 beers, 3 glasses of rose, a pulled pork on ciabatta sandwich, an entire plate of penne pasta, mozzarella balls, and a pint of ice cream. That’s why you don’t bike with the munchies kids. The ride home all I could think about was eating more ice cream when I reached the Brooklyn side. How tomorrow I’m going to roast potatoes and make more pasta. I’m huffing and puffing like how am I gonna get to the middle of this bridge?

It’s a great feeling, coasting down the bridge and not pedaling. It’s like getting a bonus check and throwing your card down for some new clothes. Its like mailing it in for the rest of the week post hump day. Coasting your senior year of college and carrying that into the rest of your adult life.

Google Maps

Do people get Google Maps fomo? When Google comes up with a route that’s six minutes faster and you don’t take it, do you sit at the train station later or in line at McDonald’s behind someone ordering for five people and think “if only I took that six-minute faster route.” It be nice if my phone sent me notifications of faster routes to navigate things like my career and dating. Fastest route to inner peace is taking a left on “Quit now to avoid three-year slowdown ahead” street.

Checking in on Jack’s Game
I went to my office cafeteria the other day for a second lunch (my first one didn’t hit the spot) on a tip from Talaya, my old administrative assistant pal, that the egg salad was fire. As I approached the deli line, I noticed two girls from HR I have respective crushes on who were also ordering sandwiches. They ordered turkey wraps, and I froze thinking “I can’t order egg salad in front of these hot girls. They’ll think I’m a psychopath” as if it was common knowledge that all the Netflix serial killers love egg salad. But the egg salad was the whole reason I was there, so I stuck with it. Later at the check out line, I asked them what they got, and they said they were splitting a turkey avocado wrap. I got a banana in my pocket and said “nice, I got egg salad.” I even pointed at the egg salad as if it weren’t clear where the sandwich was. So that was the end of that. Might schedule an HR appointment this week.

Phone Obitiuaries

I’d like to start an obituary column for cell phones. Barry’s iPhone 7 died of natural causes on Sunday morning. He was four years old, due for an upgrade, and at 1% battery for the last 22 minutes of his life. He’s credited with several Instagrams of Barry’s dog Larry, and he persevered through two run-ins with water damage. One was in a pool and the other Barry’s toilet. He is survived by a pair of airpods, a damaged sim card, and two chargers. The Verizon and Apple stores were unwilling to accommodate Barry’s iPhone, so funeral arrangements will be postponed until the genius bar can get its shit together. Find my iPhone has been disabled.

Jenn’s iPhone 13 mini was lost in a cab in New Orleans during an altercation with the uber driver and subsequently used to buy $1300 worth of tv and electronic supplies by said driver from Walmart. She was too ashamed to file another insurance claim that would certainly cause a notification to her parents, and was unable to lock her credit cards without a phone. Her identity is now stolen and she’s using the iPhone 6 she had four years ago with a cracked screen.

Let’s hope this week is better than Jenn’s! Who hasn’t been there before, am I right?

-Hack Jowens

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