"meet at quinlan's?" i texted chuck.
"i knew you were going to want to go out," he wrote back.
which is funny, because i don't think he even knew i had been out biking.
at quinlan's, i spend 10 minutes listening to a man's strategy for his upcoming duel. he has, apparently, accepted a challenge, but only under his terms.
"this guy is like 206 pounds," he explains. "i'm 145 on a good day."
"i'm 145 on a bad day," i tell him.
he continues: "so he wants a boxing ring, but i need more open space. i need an incline with trees. i'm faster than him. i'm like a racehorse."
he shows me one thin, ink stained wrist.
" ... and my arm doesn't get any bigger further up," he says.
there are more details, more fancy footwork and martial arts expertise. but i'm sworn to secrecy. but if you're looking for a good time on june 22 ...
we called for a ride home and ended up with:
my favorite cab accessory, teddy bear the toy poodle we once invited to an afterbar.
i feel that i have another photo that looks exactly like this.
and this one.
the cab driver put my bike in the trunk, so i never did have to ride up the hill. crisis averted. plus i got to take a page from jcrew's afterbar fashion forwardness.
we came home. played guitar hero and chased toonses around, tormenting the tormentor. he hates when we have fun.