Few things annoy me more than when I’m taken seriously.

A couple of weeks ago I took a vacation to a place I used to live, San Diego. I spent most of my time at my favorite coffee shop, a converted railway station along the 101 called The Pannikin. It is kind of a magical place, and one of the only places in the world where I feel truly relaxed.

Anyway, all sorts love The Pannikin. Moms, students, artists, business people, Tony Hawk, and the sport cyclists that so often ride up and down the 101, one of the most beautiful stretches of road you’ll ever find. So as I was sitting enjoying my tea, a group of about fifteen cyclists came into the coffee shop. I was sitting near the cash register where I–how do you say?–was eye to eye with a stream of crotches.

So what did I do? What any red-blooded writer man would do. I wrote something snarky about it on my personal Facebook page.

Here’s what I wrote: “The middle-aged men on expensive bikes ride down the 101 painted in spandex. If I threw sticks at them I’m positive God’s response would be, And it was good.”
I wrote it because I thought of the first line, and it sounded a little poetic to me. But then–since my blood runs black with sarcasm–I tacked on the last bit, picturing myself throwing sticks at the crotches that were temptingly close to me.

A cyclist I know on Facebook took this the wrong way. She thought I meant to say that I wanted to throw a stick at a cyclist. In retrospect, I can see where she’s coming from, given that is exactly what I wrote.

I’m writing this blog to clear the air. I’m sorry I wrote that, and for how it came off. Next time I’ll be more sensitive. I’m a peacenik; I don’t advocate violence against anyone, ever. I’m kind of new to this semi-public figure/strangers taking me seriously thing, and I’m fumbling through it as I go.

The most disappointing part of this for me is that I’m actually a bit of a biking zealot. I’ve built my life around being able to ride my bike most everywhere I go on a regular basis. I think of biking as a virtuous act, something that strengthens the body, respects the earth, and, on a good ride, can liberate the soul. It makes me piping mad when I feel like a car (or anyone else) intimidates me or any cyclist. So I fully understand where the people who took offense to my status update are coming form. I should have apologized and cleared the air immediately. I’m stubborn and–I know it makes me sound immature, but–being misinterpreted frustrates me. I’m learning.

While I don’t do the spandex thing myself, the non-snarky part of me loves that other people do. My joie de vivre is being around passion, and cyclists are a seriously passionate bunch. Do grown-ups wearing full spandex in public almost invite a little teasing? Sure they do, and that they wear the spandex anyway makes them even cooler.

And plus, they’re all the while providing a valuable service to our community; they’re walking sexual education models, and I think that’s great.

(Loving sarcasm! Jokes!)

As much as I love passion, I also love irony. I value my freedom to say ironic, ornery things as I see fit, and I’m not going to give up that freedom just because I do this AltDaily thing. I like to be loose, glib, stir the pot. For unknown reasons I expect people to know that I have a good heart and I mean no harm. So if this is just the beginning of a long series of putting my foot in my mouth and then having to apologize, so be it. If public apologies are going to be my bag, well, move over Tiger, there’s a new idiot in town.
Plus, fallibility is sexy, no?

Until next time,
Jese=Out