friskin

My misadventures continue... A beautiful specimin of manhood agreed to help me put together my bike, which has been sitting for two weeks in a box in the mail room. He asked me to pay him twenty dollars because the store downtown charges twenty-five. I was a little taken aback by the request, but agreed without putting up a fight or even showing any sign of resistance. I couldn't have done it alone, though, and I really do admire the guy for having the tools and the skillz (with a Z) to complete the task. He showed up to our 11:00 am rendezvous (fashionably late, which was right in line with the rest of his equally fashionable character). We got to package and hauled it into the Java Joint, cleared a space, fished all of the pieces out of a sea of...cringe...packing peanuts, and he got to work. When he was attaching the second to last piece, I decided it was probably safe to take the box out back and throw it in the dumpster. Was it safe, friends? No no no. A few minutes later, at 11:45, our conversation went something like this

Helpful Man-Friend: Hey, Becky, did you already get rid of that box?
Becky: Yeah, why?
HMF: Well, I'm missing a screw and I think it fell out while....
Becky: I'll be right back.

And yes, I went out side. I evaluated the situation. The box was lying near the bottom of a five foot tall dumpster, on top of a few bags of garbage. I shook my head and sighed and I couldn't believe my lot in life. I found an angle where I could kind of hang onto the side with a foot and a hand and reach down and grab the damn thing. Mid-grab, along came who would turn out to be my gardian angel: a woman, probably from one of the offices upstairs, who was outside for a cigarette break.

Long story short, we conquered the sea of packing peanuts... cringe... and found the tiny little screw! Triumphant music played as I held it up in the air and shouted, "YES! YES! YEEEEEES!"

I rode my bike to class not five minutes late. I rode my bike on the sidewalk, wobbling this way and that on tires that are in need of some air. It doesn't do well on even the smalles of inclines, and I'm pretty sure the gears are fucked beyond repair. I saw my friends walking toward me and I gleefully exclaimed, "I got a bike!" and they laughed and I laughed and there was laughing all around.

The End.

Now, on to the next...