when i biked past seven dudes in flawless camo strutting out of a business building on monday, i thought: funny they're all asian. as i rounded the corner to find my route destroyed by a massive military demonstration, i fought off annoyance, and obediently rerouted myself. quietly, as instructed. that night, i asked the red cross team if they knew who was being honored. nobody could say.
yesterday, i saw a man gesturing a large truck to drive the wrong direction down a one-way street. and it finally clicked: duh. they're filming a movie. my mind raced through images like the hasty wrap-up of a good heist. why hadn't i noticed? people whispering confidentially about clean, gutted tanks parked near the transit center; a serviceman conversing with a casually well-dressed civilian about shooting schedules; an uncanny number of exceptionally good-looking men; and the familiar sense that, amidst this chaos, i was somehow the spectacle.
after recovering from personal disappointment about my poor recognition rate, i savored the sequence and sighed: there's no place like home.
I Wrote a Column for Outside and They Published It on the Internet! - I'm currently waiting to board a cross-country New York-bound germ tube as I type this, but my latest column ponders the question all thinking cyclists* ha...