Well surprise, surprise, the St. Louis public Schools web filter that normally blocks access to any website with out the word "educational" in the URL allows me to post on one with "fucking" in the web address. Greetings to THE FBC from Gateway Institute of Technology room 222E.
What better way to pass time while my students play Call of Duty
than to recap the best Fiasco since the Chorondolet Ride (#5)?
Fiasco Thirteen definately earned itself a spot in the hall of fame:
Joe Deko was wearing a red velure track suit and riding a 60 pound totally non-custom beach cruiser that may or may not have had flame tread tires.
With that said could there be a more appropriate destination than Shady Jacks' Saloon (motocycle bar/motorcycle shop/ultimatefighting training facilty on North Broadway). Lucky Thirteen lived up to its reputation as the 50 or so riders made our way from The Hi-Pointe to Shady Jack's via Lindel with only one crash and ZERO FLAT TIRES! The crash at Lindel and Deboliver was almost bad news as Cole claims to have avoided braining a fallen lady FBCer with his pedal by a matter of centimeters.
a little way down the road we stopped at the Schnucks for some beverages and i got to test out Chris Miesters' totally awesome Aluminum Cannondale that works like fine swiss watch for which he traded two records. Nice work Chris. With lifted spirits and heavy back packs we continued on. Somewhere near Tucker i skitched a white hummer limo full of Francis Howell kids comming from prom.
Shady Jack's is the perfect Fiasco second bar. It was empty. The owner was there drinking. The barmaids were wearing very tight, very short skirts. The bathroom had murals of naked ladies on which customers had used sharpies to draw on after market nipple rings. there was covered parking area where you can hangout and drink beer from your back pack. you can take ultimate fighting lessons. they stayed open late for us. the barmaids were wearing short, tight skirts. the owner gave me a free t-shirt and promised big time beer deals the next time we come back.
A good time was had by all. Especially the ones that made use of the pole on the raised dance floor.
at closing time a smaller group of us decided to head over to a house party on the southside at shanendoah and thurman. Probably the highlight of my entire night was riding at the very back of the pack and watching the guy directly in front of me ride straigt into an orange traffic barrel. There was no one on either side of him and not a single car on the road. but when he got up i asked him what had happened and he said "there was no way to avoid it." Drunk bikers are hilarious!
The party was a good time. Andy Brockman and i drank the last four beers in the entire house which we had unwittingly stolen from the only north county jock asshole tuff guy in the party. I ate a cigarette and immeadiatly regreted it. Johnny Ace and I tossed pennies. a bunch of us tried to break cinder blocks with karate chops. no one was successful.
when the party was over we pedal off towards the highpoint. when Cole and i turned onto Oakland our ride home turned into the tour de france and we sprinted the entire way home i immeadiatley regretted it.