bike it home

Is there anything more wonderful than a lonely bike ride, on (bike) virgin streets, shades before midnight, shades before green vomiting? Riding your bike (helmet?check! light? check? reflective Stanford band? check!) before the next day official begins, on an empty Los Angeles street. It's thrilling and crisp. Crisp is a wonderful, autumnal feeling. There's hardly any cars out. (And, of course, no bikes.) The mild gamble of riding in the right lane. Thrilling! Crisp!

Is there anything more satisfying than an American gastro-pub (lamb curry pie! micro-brewery pints!) in your corporate-salaried mid-twenties? Being one of the boys, it's delightful. Loud room, loud conversation. The gasping feeling you might Do Something! Be Someone! Or, at least know the people Doing Those Things. Internet! Gaming! Mobile Space! Start-up! Funding! Projects!

I may never escape the Internet-- what other industry will employ me through retirement age? But at least, I might have had flushed-cold cheeks and wary fluorescent glow, cast about by my little light, in the 11th hour. O! Los Angeles, your long streets at long hours!