dude wisdom

The wonderful thing about living at sea level is, the bike ride home is all downhill. If anyone was out tonight, you know it was balmy lilac and moon beams.

Three jocular college boys right directly in front of me – pedal in shorts and retro Ts. At Cambie Street their conversation hits me as we all slow down for a red light.

“She was wearing a white vintage wedding dress, dude, right in the middle of the street.”

“How did you know it was vintage?”

“Because…it had…like…ruffles. I’m tellin’ you it was freakin’ eerie. EERIE. She just stood there, the wind catching her dress.”

And off they went ahead of me. Ever wonder what guys talk about? Bike right behind them. Main Street.

“I think if I ever do it, I don’t want the whole big event, just something simple.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

“Maybe I’ll marry my bike. She’s all dressed in white.”

“Dude, don’t ever ride her to Vegas or it might happen.”

And off they go ahead, this time a chubbier fellow huffs and puffs catching up by Fraser.

“Took you long enough.”

“Hey, I have lactose build up.”

“All you need is a good spin class and a beer.”

(tries to twist his nipple)

“Hey, don’t mock my intolerances.”

How simple and fun this friendship seems. And I am grinning ear to ear to be overhearing their easy jocularity. It makes me want to be a boy. (not that I would want my nipple twisted either, but you know what I mean)

Clark.

“Nah, he’s a decent guy he just gets – you know. But not – just once in a while. You just gotta (makes a “blowing off” sound)”

“Yeah.”

“Who doesn’t?”

They continue straight and I head left and fly down all the way to Williams with my red socks, my Italian pants and my little blinking lights. I had a few of my demons with megaphones on today, as we sometimes do when the pressure is on. “You are hideous, get off the stage!” Ahhhh. Yes.

And as I flew down the hill in the night, I made a big fat “blowing off” sound to that.

Dude wisdom. Sometimes it’s the best. Give that devil a rest.