May 10, 2005

THERE IS A LIGHT ON MY BIKE THAT NEVER GOES OUT

We were off to Edmar, which is ghetto Polish and smells only like old grocery stores smell -- a little mildrew, a little grandma cologne and a dash of coriander. They are open til midnight and mostly sell jar food. I got a two dollar Polish hazelnut-ridden candy bar, it was big and thick like those kinds I used to sell in order to get to go on class trips back in public school. In the lot, I noticed for the first time, on my new-old bike, that I had one of the friction light generators too, the rub on the tire and get white-watts kind, same as on Cris' bike. The same kind of light 3 minutes before I was calling delightful Mr Wizard magic. And Ouila, it turned out I had one too!

We're in the lot and for the first time since winter I realized there is a light on the front of my bike. I flicked the friction maker on the back into it's lock-spot and with a mouthful of milch-chocolate and a quick start of pedalling, I illuminated a path into the wet Chicago night. "I'm shining!" I yelled to Cris and reached out to give her a minibrick of nutted polish choco. I have a thing for that simple science - I might of well been making the bike fly.

We rode towards home, pulling the tin foil off the candy and devouring it, powering our tiny lights in tandem. Cris would just hold out her hand and say "More". I was so happy. As happy as I'd ever been. I told the man in the jeep at the stop sign "We have lights on our bikes!" because i wanted him to notice, not miss the oppurtunity to witness such safety and inventiveness in motion. I got all the way home ( 4 blocks) and realized I could not be home - I had to go power the light some more.

Every time I saw someone I knew, I stopped, offered them a square of chocolate and showed off my new light, all Ben Franklin on the filament glow. "See!". They would eat the treat and then head in or out of the bar door, congratulating me on my luminescence. I ran into Telo, who was going into the Kill Hannah "half way to halloween" 18+ dance party at the nouveu Italian resturant. She coaxed me in. Over approximately 7 minutes, drank a water, wondered why every girl in the place thought push up bra/corset/underpants w/ a pair of Skechers was a costume, heard The Killers for the first time, bummed a cigarette I only took two drags of from a daddy goth who rocked both a sparkley cowboy hat and Shari Lewis' eyelashes called me "babe" and made that clicking sound like he was goddamn Telly Savalas.
I checked out some asses and got back on my bike.

I did not mean to stop at the bar with the big open windows where everyone looks good and acts wasted, but they yelled my name, beckoned me over. They were celebrating new tattoos and 23rd birthdays and dogs they loved and drinking "to Berlin!" with many small bottles of champagne. I gave them my last candy squares. Then, from around the doorway, a boy I spent six years with appeared, he was working the door. "You have treats?" he asked. "Nope, Those were my last ones." I said. It was not supposed to be weird, but it was - I think he thought I was just being vindictive for that time he ruined 1997-2002. I held up the empty wrapper for evidence - "Sorry!". I hopped back on my bike, waved to the faded, and floated home, my little light showing the way.

Posted by Jessica at May 10, 2005 02:24 AM | TrackBack