Soon enough, it’ll be fuck-this-shit o’clock – it might already be for you – and mother fucking boozing and bike riding time.
Friday’s full moon is the Full Worm Moon. Friday’s full moon is also a “mini” moon. I’ll let you use the google machine to figure out those terms and why they exist.
More importantly, Friday is March’s edition of FBC’s Full Moon Fiasco. I plan to go, I’ve not ridden the Fiasco since November of 2014.
Not long ago, a weekend Fiasco in the warmer months could be counted upon to bring out lots of riders/boozers. I have no idea how many people will show for Friday’s Fiasco and I blame the weather.
I blame the weather that I didn’t ride the January or February Fiascos. When I’m warm and cozy wrapped in flannel and watching a movie while quaffing beer, why in the hell would I want to get bundled up, grab my bike and ride in windchill temps of many many many degrees below ZERO Fahrenheit?
Yes, I’ve been a pansy ass and Bike Winter can kiss my butt this year. What of it?
I don’t think I’ve ever been a fan of winter or snow but this year I’ve found it particularly distasteful so I have not ridden one of my bikes outside since November of last year, all my necessary riding has been done on a Divvy bike, the city’s rental bike service which I endorse.
Oh, but the snow is so pretty and it’s so clean and so fresh and so so so….
Stop it, just stop it. Just stop trying to rationalize to me how wonderful this god awful season is. Personally, I could live happily without ever seeing another snowflake and I can spout a myriad of reasons why but screw all that noise; I’ll lay blame for my lameness squarely on target, right at the foot of the my utter lack of intestinal fortitude this winter. It isn’t hard to ride a bike even on the coldest of days of infernal winter. As long as the streets are dry, bundle up and everything’s all good. Snow isn’t all that hard either but ice scares the bejeezus out of me.
The beginning of March is always a harbinger of hope. The sunlight lasts much longer than the low depths of early winter, the temps might tease us with the luxury of rising above 40 degrees and the promise of another season of riding outside in warmer temps without having to endure the claustrophobia inducing layers of thermal clothing is palpable and juicy like a succulent cocktail.
Friday our local weather forecast is promising to be close to freezing. This is encouraging.
March will also squash those visions by slapping you upside the head with below zero wind chills just because Mother Nature is a bitch and she feels like trolling you.
The Full Moon Fiasco is not an active endeavor, many times the hardest part of the ride is staying upright on two wheels and in this city there exists a bar seemingly on every other corner if one gets too cold. Safety, it’s always safety first, isn’t it? A Plan B is always important, even on a boozy bike ride.
In my liquor larder is a full bottle of Malort, the official beverage of the Fucking Bike Club. There may or may not be a short respite at some dark park. In any case, it pays to be prepared; I have some Blatz to carry along.
Blatz, yes, Blatz. On a chilly winter night, the warmth of 4 Hands’ Madagascar Imperial stout would be a preferred brew but it doesn’t come in a can.
By now we all know that booze is not the anti-freeze that was once thought. Our alcoholic friend is a “vasodilator” which will help bring on hypothermia if you aren’t careful but in this day and age of “anti-science” who cares? Pass me that Blatz and the flask of Rumple Minze!
So, soon enough a cadre of Full Mooners will make their preparations and we will meet and hoist boozy beverages and ride bikes in the snowy wintery tundra of the city. I know you all want to do it too!