I wake up at 3:30AM, and I realize it's Tour day. All kinds of things coming blasting about inside my cerebral cortex. I can't stop thinking. Tired of looking up into the darkness, I get out of bed at 4:20AM to just do whatever until I need to leave for the venue at 6:40AM.
Drive over and get to work. Arranging shit. In the drizzle. Wondering what the weather gods have in store for our day. Shit. We had a "dry plan" and a "wet plan" for quite awhile. Three days ago, we decided "fuck everything, dry plan."
It's apparently not going to be dry.
photo cred: Ben Ullman
I have nothing better to do, so I roll down to the parking area to see who I know. I quickly notice that our awkward parking area is filling up rather quickly. Ummmm...
I start trying to figure our where to squeeze who and what, and as I see us approaching critical mass, I start riding all the side streets I can find, looking for street side parking. I discover something that doesn't look terrible where it looks like people that live there might park their cars and start directing people over there... the whole time knowing that if I'm wrong and they get towed...
Mebbe I go home early.
I start sending everyone there anyways.
Around 9:00AM, the vehicles are showing up faster than I can handle them. People are parking in ways that are no bueno. 9:15AM and I get a call on the radio that I'm supposed to be at the volunteer meeting. Meh. I cry "help" and just leave as soon as someone else jumped into the shit soup.
The ride starts, and Colin and I leave early to pre-cork an intersection. Even tho I had a good part in figuring out the route for the day, I brain fart and we miss a turn. No big deal. We turn around.... and see the pack of 250 riders coming right at us. Woops.
Hurry up a bit and cork those couple places and move on to Stage One with the group. I need to collect my volunteers... and I find one of two. 50% is better than 0%, I guess. Two guys from Atlanta volunteer to jump in to fill the void and eventually we find Bike Town Mayor, Jeff. We roll on rather quickly to my stage at Renaissance Park.
I figure out a way for us to tape the course in the fastest manner I can think of, stopping, measuring, moving to the next spot while someone else does the actual taping. As we make our way around, the tape I pulled for myself from our huge stockpile starts to dwindle. Funny, because I was in charge of the tape and gave most of it to the other stage coordinators so they would have plenty. One turn away from being done, and we run out. Doh. We drag logs and barrels and whatnot over everything we can't tape. Dammit.
I head out for one lap by myself and drag even more debris into ambiguous areas. I feel the worst thing that can ever happen (that you should be in control of) is people getting off course because of poor markings. Not on my watch.
My radio goes off. Everyone is arriving.
I nab all the racers and take them to the very wide start line heading across some soggy grass fields funneling into a two-wide hole in the woods. On purpose. Because.
Start the race and head off to find my beer and my bike...
Which of course has been hidden from me.
Meh.
I expected as much but not when I need to not be looking for my bike. Fortunately, Bill Nye tips me off to my bike's new location so that I can enjoy the very carnage that I did thus intend to create.
photo cred: Ben Ullman
photo cred: Weldon Weaver
photo cred: Weldon Weaver
That's Watts and his bike. It was stolen later that night (after the after party), and there is a reward for that bike or the balls of the thief. I love this man almost as much I love shirts without sleeves, so if you see this bike, get at me so he doesn't have to ride PMBAR like this:
More tomorrow (mebbe).
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