The Good, the Bad, and the Fat

It was warm at the Tour de Fat yesterday, but still a good time. I always liked the non-stop fun of pouring/serving beer, but I now think that selling tokens is definitely my groove. I reached a point by the middle of the afternoon when I could point to people standing 50 feet away and pull them over to the token table by sheer force of will. A Jedi beer token mind trick.

Memorable moments:

1. There was a Port-O-Potty wired with a karaoke machine. Seriously. When I walked by, three women and a man were crammed in there watching the lyrics on the screen and singing "Lola." It's a mixed-up, muddled-up, shook-up world.

2. I sold some tokens to the girlfriend of Noah, the guy who received a custom cruiser bike as a reward for giving up his car. This is an annual event at the TdF, and the moment when the new bike floats down (on pulleys; you have to be there) is great.

3. Rob Williams, juggler, street performer, and faithful observer of the grand traditions of Vaudeville. The culmination of his act -- again, seriously -- is he makes a baloney sandwich with his feet, just his feet, and invites someone from the audience to come on stage and eat it. Sounds so wrong, but it works so right.

4. Some jerk stole the computer off my bike. Regular readers know I had some emotional history with that device. Since I logged the miles on the old one last night, I only lost the mileage to the MAX station, then from the Zoo down through Washington Park to the Waterfront Park, then back to the MAX and from the Transit Center to my bike guys, where I bought a Cateye Strada wireless CC0RD300W (since my old model hasn't been made in years). The bike rack area wasn't fenced off, and I actually thought about pocketing my old computer when I locked up my bike, but figured -- it's a bike festival. There are hundreds of bikes here. Who  would steal an old computer off my bike?

Turns out someone would. Whoever took it, I hope the new CR2032 battery, which I just put in about 2 weeks ago, leaks out, eats a hole through your clothes, and burns you at the most socially awkward time and place possible. From then on, it's your karma. It won't even work without the rest of the hardware, which you didn't take. You shmuck.