“You’re not working on Sunday? Sunday is funday. Sunday we dance around the shop naked.”
Kyle told me this as I leaned on the counter by the cash register at NYC Velo. It was Friday, early afternoon, and my legs were beginning to feel worn down already. A few hours later, I would sit on a couch and realize that the last thing I wanted to do was get up, much less cook dinner, descend five flights of stairs, run some errands, and climb back up those stairs. But for the moment, my knees were just a little uncomfortable, reminding me that although sitting at a desk for 8 hours a day probably isn’t healthy, it was a lot easier than scampering around all day.
With the hopes of working towards a new bicycle, I worked a few hours at the shop this past weekend. I restocked shelves, sold helmets and lights, was asked advice on sizing for someone my height [answer: difficult], mastered the basics of the cash register, ate lunch on my feet, and made fun of Ish. The usual suspects, who I always tend to forget about when I’m stuck at a desk for too long, were in. There was the guy in his early 20s, just getting into the fixie craze and primarily concerned about making his new bike look really flashy. On the hunt for powdercoated Deep Vs and anondized everything, inevitably with a budget too small to build his fantasy bike, I cringed a little remembering my own pink anchor-like rims. Selling those off moved up slightly on my list of priorities.
Next came the [predictably] Japanese tourist bike dorks, murmuring and pointing at the Ellis hanging in the middle of the shop, behind the pretty Vanilla. They bypassed the impressive single-speed, choosing to ogle instead at the geared wonder, and when Justin showed them the electrical shifting, they gasped in unison, and ooh-ed and ahh-ed for a good 5 minutes. It was nerdily endearing, maybe [mainly?] because they were Japanese.
And then, of course, the bike celebs. Saturday evening, John Prolly and John of Two Tone Atlanta [Twitter friend meet up!] swung by on some awesome bikes, then proceeded to molest the Vanilla with their cameras. We talked bikes and the New York State Track Championships taking place at Kissena, and took pictures and tweeted. They hung out for a while, before heading off to check out the Rapha Cycle Club, and when I looked at my watch after they had left, it was almost closing time.
Post-dinner, all I could do was sit with my legs stretched out in front of me, staring dumbly at the calves that felt like heavy clubs. Mike said he was going to hook me up to the Globus he borrowed from Brett, which sounded like a terrible idea. But then again, maybe not, as I woke up Sunday morning with dead legs and that sort of oppressive cloud-like sense of obligation to ride anyway. I did [in the park, nonetheless, which was pretty much like a circus], making my Sunday outside the shop my own fun day [there may have been some RuPaul involved...].
No naked dancing, though. But at least I know where to go to see that on any given Sunday.