2013 6 Hours of Warrior Creek: The Preamble

It's not every race report that has to go back to a time three days prior for a full examination of the events that took place.

This one is like that.

I was living La Vida Bachelor from Wednesday thru Friday.  I like to make the most of my "alone" time while I can, but I never seem to put too much effort into the planning.  I figured Wednesday night I would just head to The Spoke Easy after work and see what Jon Danger was up to.  He always has a nose for good times.  That was a great plan... right up until the point when I contacted him and found out he was in New Orleans.

Meh.

So I just headed to the thrift shop and looked for some new podium pants. It was a bust.  I shoulda knew it would never work.  Good podium pants are not sought out, they just happen.  Disappointed with the amount of fail so far, I did some grocery shopping for the single, weight-obsessed man.

I thought Thursday would not be a fail.  I was just going to hook up with the Tarheel Trailblazer social ride after work and then go to the meeting at the Dilworth Neighborhood Grille for beers. 
Then it rained... most of the day.  It was one of those regrettable periods of time when I was not fully prepared for a 40°+ rainy all day shitfest.  The social ride was canceled.  I rode home with cold hands and a sinking feeling.  I wasn't heading back out of the house again for any meeting.  Instead, I packed my gear for the 6 Hours of Warrior Creek.

At least I had bought a 12 pack as opposed to a sixer the day before.  All was not lost.

Friday.

Earlier in the week I had scoffed Bill Nye's invitation for a group night out for sushi.  It sounded contrary to anything I had interest in, not the best night-before-a-race fooding, and I'd be packing my stuff and getting my bike ready.

That was before I spent the last two days being a hermit.  My social skills were deteriorating, and a few hours of human interaction would do me some good.

I was now in for sushi.  @6:00PM at Pisces.  Close to uptown, sorta on my way home, and not too far outta my way to make me give up on the idea altogether.  With an hour to kill after work, I needed to find something to do.  Since Jana was going out for sushi as well, I asked her what she was doing from 5-6.

"Washing my bike.  Wanna help?"

Not really, but I could drink beer and watch.

So that's what I did.  I've never seen anyone wash their bike while wearing heels and a skirt, but now I have.

I might have even helped, if handing someone a sponge could be considered help.  My hand did get sudsy, so I was definitely involved at some level.

Eventually we rolled over to Pisces.  Bill Nye was already at the bar sipping on a white Russian, wearing a button-up shirt two sizes too small.  I was still wearing my messengerial garb, and now with the para-professionally outfitted Jana and fashionably tasteful Bill Nye, we took a table in a place three classes above my wardrobe... in an almost empty restaurant.

We ordered drinks.  Sierra Nevada ended up being the best option in English, so I went with that.  Eventually the fourth member of our party joined us.  With Tom in his seat, we could now order.

More beer, some instructions on how to order sushi, more beer, and soon I found out that spending $20+ on sushi gets you enough food to be considered half an appetizer at Applebee's.

The restaurant went from empty to packed.  I tried to make slow work of my modest portions.  More beer.  Our male waiter had now touched the tight-shirted Bill Nye more times than we could count.  He also ignores Jana more times than we could count.  There was certainly a trend going on.

Tom, the only one NOT racing at the 6 Hours of Warrior Creek, made a brilliant move and left our company.  I don't remember what time it was.  I think I still thought I was going to be home before 8:00PM.  If not 8:00, then most definitely 10:00PM.

I know it was some time after 11:30PM when we actually became aware of the fact that the place was now fairly empty.  Just us, a few other patrons, and the employees... including Bill Nye's new admirer.  We asked for a bill.  Our waiter looked sad.  Another day maybe.

The bill was long and filled with many items.  The number of Sierra Nevadas all in a row... I think the waiter was making that up.  We paid anyways, an amount of money perhaps three times greater than I had budgeted for.

And we were almost out the door...

Jana saw the bartender mixing up some shakey drinks in one of those metal tumblers that are certainly more for show than go.  She announced that we at least needed to do one shakey drink before calling it an evening.  Since it was apparent that we could not possibly make things worse, Bill Nye and I agreed to stay.

It was made with some kind of citrus fruit and Pro Gold degreaser.  That was our best guess. It did not go down easy.  By the time we left, I knew that tomorrow was not going to go as I might have hoped.

I looked at the clock when I poured myself into bed.

1:30AM

Alarm set for 5:20AM.

Why did Jon Danger have to go to New Orleans?

Why?