1. A few months in advance, start reading Zipcode’s blog [no longer active].
2. Laugh at her funny stories, like when she wrote about men talking crap at a bar.
3. On Friday, read about how she’s planning to attend the DC-101 Biker Bash (hosted by local radio station DC-101).
4. Send Zipcode an email: “Take me, take me!”
5. Zipcode responds: “Here’s my phone number. I will pick you up, take you there, and bring you home. What is your address?”
6. Zan: “Wow, that was easy!”
7. Zipcode picks up Zan on a beautiful Sunday morning. They drive to Maryland and pick up Zipcode’s lovely friend J.
8. Zan meets more of Zipcode’s friends once they reach their destination. They ask, “How do you know Zipcode?” Zan: “We met online.” Them: “Ah.” (It doesn’t feel nearly as strange to say this as it used to.)
I had a really good time at the Biker Bash. I drank three beers on a Sunday afternoon, listened to some good music, and met some nice people.
Zipcode is an anonymous blogger (well, duh, since I’m using her nickname). There was a really good photo taken of the two of us, but I had to crop her out for privacy reasons.
There was a Hot Biker Guy we were all drooling over — I believe we christened him Hottest Guy at the Biker Bash. This is a low-quality photo Zipcode took with her cell phone (I stole it from her MySpace page). This photo does not do him justice.
I felt like going for a walk after Zipcode dropped me off at home that evening, so I texted someone who I thought might like to accompany me on said walk. This person ended up being busy and didn’t answer in time, so I ended up going on a Long Ass Walk all by myself. And by “Long Ass Walk” I mean that I literally walked for an hour and a half. I must have walked for miles around Old Town last night.
Friday night I was out with some friends in the same area. We were talking about how in Old Town there are some really nice streets and some really nice, very expensive homes — but depending on the street, if you go over a block or so you’re suddenly in a not-so-nice neighborhood. And that’s exactly what I noticed last night on my Long Ass Walk.
I was walking down North Royal St after the sun had already set. On my right? Beautiful townhouses. On my left? Ghetto apartments with all kinds of people hanging out on the sidewalks and sitting on dilapidated cars. I crossed over to the side of the street with the nice houses, but I quickened my pace and didn’t feel entirely comfortable until I was a few blocks further away.
Another notable occurrence from the weekend: my friend Tripp came over on Saturday and was kind enough to show me how to load my bicycle on my bike rack so it doesn’t wobble around and scare me with its unsteadiness (I’ve not transported my bike via car since I bought it in June for fear it would come unhooked and be smashed to bits on the highway). We also took our bikes for a spin on the Mount Vernon Trail, so he has the official distinction of being the first person to accompany me on a bike ride since I purchased my bike a few months ago. Thanks for the company, Tripp!