After having more than a couple days to reflect on it, I still have pretty much no idea what happened last Saturday night.
There are a couple of things that I do know for sure:
Some sort of low-rent super hero surfaced from his parents basement with a reflective vest and flashlight. He flagrantly disrupted traffic and pissed off motorists in the name of safety.
We took a tour of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr BLVD. The first part of the tour was guided by a 6 car Wellston Police escort. John P. gave one of the officers a spoke card to either hang up back at the station or put in the spokes of one of Wellston's Motorcycle units.
An unknown passerby threw a chunk of concrete at Deebo, who was riding my Mom's 1980's Schwinn High Sierra. Luckily both Deebo and my Mom's ride escaped unharmed.
Two FBCers on a tandem bike broke their rear axle on the ride. A group of us took turns pushing them to their apartment downtown. At one point we were pushing them so recklessly I almost
wished that Captain Safety was nearby to reprimand us.
As we neared our destination our huge group splintered into dozens of smaller groups. At one point I was riding down Lenore K. Sullivan by myself when some jackass in a car full jackasses hit me with a big gulp that he threw out the window. I caught up with them just as they were forced to stopped by the group of 100 drunken bike riders blocking the rode. I bounced a beer can off the car, flipped them the bird and felt totally vindicated.
The cops had already broken up the party by the time we got there. As everyone knows, after reaching the final destination any shred of organization goes flying out the window like a half full Big Gulp. Shannon offered to move the party to CAMP as long as we could find someplace to kill about 45 minutes. Some of us went to Shady Jacks some of us went to Maurizzios, some of us went home. I went to Shady Jacks. When we got there the garage door was drawn and it seemed to be closed. I found a key hole, placed my mouth firmly against it, identified ourselves as The Fucking Bike Club and asked Jack to open up. The garage door came up and brought our spirits right along with it.
Finally, 3:00 rolled around and Jack had no option but to close his doors. Our group made our way over to CAMP to practice for next months Underwear Pool Party of Destiny with a monumental all night underwear dance party. My mind may be playing tricks on me, but I think I recall Captain Safety sitting in chair in the corner of the dance floor using his front bike light as a strobe light and keeping vigil over the dance floor. We danced until 7:15am. I took over 200 photos. These are the ones I feel ok about posting on the internet.