Caution: Bikes ahead!

As I was casually clicking around the Web yesterday, I found a link to this:

The 2010 Bike D.C. ride. All in all it's a 19-mile tour of some of the best sights in D.C. and Arlington. According to the website:

"The 19-mile Bike DC ride starts on America's Main Street-Pennsylvania Avenue-with the U.S. Capitol as the backdrop. On the other end of Pennsylvania Avenue, of course, is the White House, the first of the national treasures along the route. Others include the Marine Corps [War] Memorial, Arlington Cemetery and the Air Force Memorial.*"

The ride doesn't just go around D.C., it also goes over into Arlington and up the GW Parkway to Fort Marcy Park (just past Chain Bridge), turns around and ends up in Crystal City (click here for the route). Sounds like fun to me. And, since I just got this:**

I think I might sign up and tag along. Anyone else feel up for a ride?

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The details:

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Day: Sunday, May 23

Time: Start time is 7:30 a.m. to 8:30 a.m

Location: Pennsylvania Ave. between 7th and 14th

Registration info: here

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One other thing, if four or more adults sign up together, they all get a $10 discount. Anyone want to start a group?

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*Otherwise known as the "Wolverine" or "Standing Rib Roast" memorial.

**No, I didn't just buy a bike, I just bought a new bike. Ever since I realized running was quickly turning my knees to dust biking has been my major form of exercise.

Going green…in my head

It seems the big thing these days is saving energy. We use compact fluorescent light bulbs. Wind turbines and solar panels are springing up everywhere (although more are needed). We recycle and compost and try to drive less because all of these things help save energy.

I’ve decided to go on another energy-saving kick in the coming months, a mental/emotional energy cutback if you will.

Let me ‘splain.

As a guy, last year was an amazing vicarious success for me. In order, the Pittsburgh Steelers, North Carolina Tar Heels and Pittsburgh Penguins all won their respective championships. A Lombardi Trophy, an NCAA Men’s Basketball Championship trophy and Lord Stanley’s Cup: Not a bad sports haul for one guy to cheer about in six months.

Hell, my teams won the same number of championships during the first six months of 2009 that all of the professional sports teams in Philly won during the last 26 years. Not too shabby. To twist the knife into Philly a little more, my teams have won more championships in the last five years (another Super Bowl and NCAA title) than Philly has since 1975.

But last Sunday, as I watched the Steelers stagger around Cincinnati’s Paul Brown Stadium only to lose a second game in two weeks in the last 15 seconds, I realized something. That something is rooting for a team takes a lot out of you. All the “Damn it! Why the Hell did they do that?” and “How the heck do the Super Bowl champs lose to the fuckin’ Bengals?” well, there’s an emotional toll to be paid and I’m tired of ponying up every weekend.

Since I’m not going to stop watching college hoops, and hockey really isn’t televised until the playoffs begin in April, something else’s gotta go. That something is going to be football.

Heinz Field: This is how it will look in the Black 'n Gold recesses

of my mind this year

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Just like I cut a number of TV shows out of my life last year, I’ve decided that since the realities of professional football (salary cap, injuries, the Pats) militate against the Steelers repeating as Super Bowl champs in 2010. So I’m going to endeavor to be less emotionally involved with them this year.

It’s not that I’m not going to be a fan; it’s just that I’m not going to anxiously scan the TV listings to see if their games are on. I’m not going to religiously read the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette’s sports page every day.

Most importantly, I’m not going to get my panties all in a bunch if they lose. Also, since the Heels lost – through graduation or the leaving early – a goodly number of the players who beat the ever-living shit out of Michigan State last April, I’m pretty sure they’re not going to win either.

So I got that going for me.

For those of you wondering what effect this change of heart will have on the annual Gumbo Championship Party and its associate the Super Bowl Chili Party I can answer you in one word: Nothing. I enjoy gumbo/chili and football as much as the next guy.

The only question I have left is this: What do people do on Sunday afternoons in the fall?

A White Sport Coat and a Pink Crustacean

I want to go back to the island,
Where the shrimp boats
. .tie up to the pilin'.
Give me oysters and beer
. .for dinner ev'ry day of the year,
And I'll feel fine, I'll feel fine.

Two hundred and two days ago my friends and I all went online to TicketMonster and started clicking away like test rats beating on the food bar trying to get a treat. It’s an annual ritual for us and this year, unlike last, we were eminently successful.

Last year, when we tried to buy tickets only one out of six of us got through and we were forced to get our tickets to the show on the aftermarket. This, of course, sucked major monkey balls since the price automatically doubles.

This year? Well this year all of us got through and we found ourselves with 36 tickets to tomorrow’s Jimmy Buffett and the Coral Reefer Band show at Nissan. The bus to the show starts loading at 1:30. Yeah, I said "bus." Four years ago we all decided we all made enough money to rent a bus to take us to-and-from the concert eliminating the need for a DD. Also, it gave us our own private bathroom. A much treasured luxury in the parking lot of Nissan Pavilion.

'Cause I want to be there,
I want to go back down and lie beside the sea there.
With a tin cup for a chalice
Fill it up with good red wine,
And I'm-a chewin' on a honeysuckle vine.

I’ve lost count to the number of Buffett shows I’ve been to, but this year is either 13 or 14. Every one is different (even though many of the same songs are played), and every one is special. Special because I’m there with my best friends, some of the people I love the most in the world.

So, if you too are headed out to the show tomorrow, I’ll see you there and maybe we can share a beer or two. If you’re not, well, the pirate has looked at 60 and if you’ve ever wondered why he sells out all his shows you’re running out of chances to see why.

Yes, and now you heard my strange proposal;
Get that pack gear on and let's move.
I want to be there before the day
Tries to steal away and leave us behind;
I've made up my mind

- selected lyrics from the song Tin Cup Chalice, one of my favs.

Some of this, a dash of that…

This weekend just past was one of those weekends that can only be described as…pleasant. I saw a great movie Friday night, went for one of my favorite bike rides on Saturday and spent Sunday wandering around the recently reopened Eastern Market. The only downside was dinner on Saturday (after the bike ride), but we’ll get to that in a minute.

The movie
It’s a small film, playing in only two theaters I could find in D.C., but The Hurt Locker is one of the best movies I’ve seen in a while (read the Chicago Tribune's review). It takes place in Baghdad in 2004 and focuses on the lives of the men assigned to disarm the improvised explosive devices scattered about the besieged city like leaves in the fall. [Note: I just checked and it’s actually playing in five D.C.-area theaters, so git while the gittin's good.]

Jeremy Renner (28 Weeks Later, The Unusuals) is Staff Sgt. William James, a soldier who seems to live his life as if he’s already dead. I don’t mean that he is morose or looking for death. He just accepts the fact he’s in a dangerous profession and if he thinks too hard about it, he’d never be able to get out of bed in the morning.

One of my favorite parts comes after James inspects a suspected car bomb and discovers it packed with explosives. Instead of running, like any sane person, he starts taking off his protective suit. When asked why he's doing it, he says, “There’s enough boom in this to kill us all, I might as well die comfortable.”

Some of the scenes, like that of a man locked in a suicide vest or the discovery of a booby trapped body, may seem over the top. But, according to friends who served in Iraq, they are some of the more mild tactics used by the insurgents.

All in all, The Hurt Locker is a great movie that never tells you how to think about the fighting in Iraq, it only makes you think. The Hurt Locker gets two thumbs and two big toes up from the Foggy Dew.

The Ride
Saturday morning/afternoon I went out for one of my favoritest bike rides in the area: The Crescent and the Park. It has other names, (the Zoo Review according to BikeWashington.org, but I like to call the little 20-or-so-miler in the map below The Crescent and the Park. Not very creative, I know, but it’s better than the Zoo review.


The ride took me from G-town up the C&O Canal towpath to the Capital Crescent Trail up to Bethesda. The Crescent is one of the many rails-to-trails trails in the area and I totally recommend it. It’s totally paved (although the part of the towpath I rode is crushed stone), only goes slightly uphill, is pretty shady and has some great scenery. The only annoying part is actually riding through Bethesda to get to the Georgetown Branch extension, which takes you to Rock Creek Park.

For those of you worrying about pulling yourself up the hill from Georgetown to Bethesda, don’t worry, you get all of that back once you reach RCP. The best part? Beech Avenue is closed to (most) traffic on the weekends, so you can go as fast or slow as you like along this part.

The only down side is the bike path in RCP is really in need of an overhaul. Those with skinny-tire bikes may not enjoy it as much as those of us who are used to a few bumps and potholes.

The dinner
After my ride I was, to put it plainly, hungry enough to eat…well, anything. I was particularly craving meat. But seeing as how I was a bit tired after my ride I decided I didn’t want to drive to my favorite barbeque joint and so I decided to try another place.

The new place I tried was the Rocklands Barbeque & Grilling Co. in Arlington.

Fail.

Now I’ve never thought I was a snob when it comes to food. Ask any of my friends, I’ll eat just about anything you put in front of me. But I think when it comes to meat, fire and smoke, I’ll make an exception.

I’ve been lucky enough to live in two very different barbeque havens: Eastern North Carolina and Texas. If you don’t already know, the Carolinas are all about the pork, and Texas is, well, in if it sits still long enough in Texas they’ll throw it in the smoker. But Tejas is famous for, and rightly so, it’s brisket.

I went to a party earlier this year catered by Rocklands and enjoyed their work. I’m thinking now that might have been an anomaly. Perhaps caused by the fact the meat was all cooked onsite. Not that it wasn’t cooked onsite at their location in Arlington, but it was mass-produced there, and that’s the problem.

First off, the brisket was charred a little too much for my taste, which means most people would think it was burnt through-and-through. And second, and this is the worse sin, there was a lot of, how to I put this gently, a lot of “connective tissue” in the pork. And by “connective tissue” I mean cartilage. The part of the animal you can’t really eat because it’s pretty disgusting to chew. I shudder just thinking about it.

The coleslaw was OK, the addition of little carrot cubes and peas was interesting, but coleslaw is merely a side show when it comes to meat. Don’t get me started on the beans.

All I can say is if you find yourself with a hankerin’ for some barbeque, avoid this place.

Eastern Market
What can I say? D.C. got its money’s worth with the rehabilitation of Eastern Market. As my friend and I decided, the fire was probably the best thing that could have happened to the historic market. If for no other reason than the fire probably made the place a lot cleaner.

The crowd you’d expect on a sunny Sunday afternoon was there, pawing over the produce and the overpriced trinkets splayed about. If you’re looking for something to do next weekend (or the one after that), head on over and explore this reborn D.C. treasure.

[Note: I took a bunch of pictures and will be adding them here one of these days. So keep an eye out.]

Step away from the pillow and put your hands up!

This past weekend after a lovely brunch of waffles and home fries (for me) and Eggs Neptune (for my wonderful friend Shannon) I dropped her off at the Metro. (Yes, I know I’m a bit behind the times, I plead the combination of a new, and still unfamiliar job, and the Heels’ national championship on Monday.) Her destination was a Bed, Bath and Beyond where she planned to purchase a pillow.

For a pillow fight.

In Dupont Circle.


The event in Dupont was, apparently, part of a planned, spontaneous international pillow fight taking place in cities around the world. Along with the feathery antics being a bit of performance art, it also seemed like a great way for folks everywhere to have some fun and blow off some steam in what talking heads have been calling “trying times.”

Everywhere, that is, except Detroit.

In Detroit, it seems, you now need permission from the government to carry a pillow in public. I direct you to this story by The Associated Press.

For those not motivated enough to click over, here’s the highlights:

“Police in Detroit have ruffled some feathers after they cracked down on an organized pillow fight at a downtown park. The Detroit News reports that police at Campus Martius Park prevented the feathery fight Saturday by disarming pillow-toting participants.

“Michael Davis of Hamtramck, Mich., said police confiscated the 32-year-old man's pillows but returned their cases. He said he was told that he needed a permit. Detroit police spokesman James Tate said the issue wasn't about the bout but the mess it would have created.”

There are so many elements of humor in this story I hardly know where to begin. But, for argument’s sake, let’s start with the police actually taking the time to root out the perpetrators so as to short-stop any pillow-related antics.

We’re talking about Detroit here, not only was the Final Four going on there (Go Tar Heels! Number 1 Baby!), which I think might tend to incite some problems more worthy of police attention, but we are TALKING ABOUT DETROIT! According to numbers I was able to find, 344 people were murdered in Detroit in 2008 (a 13 percent decrease from the 396 in 2007 – woohoo!).

That's about a murder a day for those keeping score at home. You never know if one of the pillow fighters might have gotten carried away and beat someone to death with a feather/poly-filled sack.

Next, we’ll move on to the police confiscating the pillows, but taking the time to return the pillow cases. Isn’t that kind of like confiscating the bullets, but giving the guns back? People, those pillow cases can be reloaded virtually anywhere!! Bed, Bath and Beyond, Sears, JC Penny, Target (Target, for god’s sake) and the Saturday Night Special dealer of pillow outlets, Wal-Mart.

This country is awash in cheap and easily available pillows. Hell, I need to show my license just to buy some allergy meds, but just anyone can walk into Wal-Mart and walk out with a dozen pillows with no questions asked.

And, finally, I know for a fact my friend carried her newly purchased pillow to Dupont in her back pack. My question to Detroit’s law enforcement community is this: Were there any attempts made to curtail the activities of those scofflaws carrying concealed pillows without a permit? This, my friends, these concealed pillow carriers, are a grave and growing problem plaguing our cities.

Imagine the innocent people - office workers enjoying their lunch breaks, families with young children patronizing their city’s public areas, lovers rendezvousing for a nooner - strolling peacefully through our parks when BAM! Suddenly, and from out of no where, someone reaches into a backpack, snatches out a 300-thread count pillow case stuffed with a big, fluffy white pillow and begins whacking away at you or, worse, your loved ones.

Perhaps, someday, when our country has grown beyond this level of frivolity and become more civilized, we’ll look back on this weekend as the start of a new age.

Personally, I hope that day never comes.

Vive la revolution!!