I'm not joining your bicycle gang.

This is a graphic representation of how good I am at certain activities:



As you can see, a fair amount of the activities on this very scientific, unbiased illustration are things that I do VERY well.

You can also see that a few of my “areas for improvement” involve wheel-based transportation.

Why even bring this up? Since you’re asking, and I admire curiosity, I’ll tell you. For the past six months or so, I’ve been put under increasing amounts of peer pressure to first purchase, then commit to riding, a bicycle. My parents and childhood friends can probably explain why this would be such a poor life decision for me. You can go ask them if you want, and I’ll sit here and prepare a list of Reasons Why I Don’t Want to Ride Bikes with You:

1. I can haz bike fundz? (see previous posts about being a poor Peace Corps Volunteer).
2. I prefer modes of transportation that don’t require helmets.
3. I don’t trust myself to not freak out if a car is anywhere near me at any given time on the road.
4. I don’t want to roll up my pants on one side.
5. This one time I was riding my bike in my neighborhood and I ran into a parked car.
6. Helmets are sweaty.
7. Helmets mess up your hair.
8. Is walking really so horrible? Why am I the only person that likes walking to places?

Friends, I really am sorry. I love you, but we’re not going for a bike ride.

Strangers- WHO NEEDS EM.

I left Morocco with lots of things, despite my manic tendency to purge whenever I move. Cute sandals and memorable anecdotes about my bowels definitely made it on the plane home, but so did another, small thing: an all-consuming fear that approaching strangers want to burgle me.

I guess it didn't help when I actually WAS robbed a few months ago, but that's beside the point.

A few weeks ago, I was on the metro platform waiting for my train when a young guy sidled up to me and said, a little too loudly, "so when do ya think the train's coming, EH?"

I was confused. I mean, there's a sign! And it says when trains come! Obviously, this dude wanted my wallet.

Clutching my purse to my chest, I stabbed my index finger at the sign and said something like "I believe it arrives in one minute, SIR." Then I turned and faced the tracks, still hugging my possessions for dear life.

"Oh, ha," the thief said. "I'm new here, I guess I missed the sign. Are you new here?"

"NO." (ha! This chump won't pull some sort of tourist-trap pickpocket trick on THIS girl.)

"Oh. Okay."

By now the train was pulling up, and I sprinted away from the criminal and into a car a bit further down the platform. Another day, another thief defeated.

...it was only after the train started moving again and I released the vice-like grip on my bag (I've been working out) that I realized he was probably just hitting on me.