When I decided I was going to start biking, I came across lots of statistics about how biking was really dangerous, then read more statistics which refuted these and maintained biking prevented diabetes, obesity, etc and was much safer than driving or walking. Well, I can now weigh in on this argument with personal experience because last night, I was hit by a cab while biking.
Considering how many times I've biked semi-recklessly through red lights or after drinking, it was kind of ridiculous how many things I was doing right this time. I was wearing a helmet, I had lights on, and I even had the right of way with the crosswalk (the white pedestrian light, not the flashing orange one). I saw the cab on the corner, but apparently he didn't see me, perhaps because he was talking on his cell. I pedaled forward, got hit by the cab and flew off my bike, which got stuck underneath the car. Katherine was with me and immediately thought I was dead. Au contraire, I bounced up from the pavement and spritely announced "I'm fine! I'm FINE!" Aside from some scrapes and bruises, I was feeling pretty good. In fact, I was awesome. It was sort of bizarre how great I felt after the adrenalin rush from being hit, a mix of giddiness at being alive and hubris at being relatively unscathed from a car accident.
Meanwhile, two other bikers had rushed over to the scene to see if I was ok and began yelling at the cab driver. Ah yes, the biker community at work! One guy was telling me I had to get the cabbie's plates, insurance info, etc, while telling him it was entirely his fault and he was a terrible person. Basically, it was the pent-up ire of cycling community towards cabs directed at this one driver. In his defense, he wasn't trying to run away and was making a reasonable attempt to give me all his insurance info, but there was just no way he could redeem himself at this point.
Cab Driver: Ok, here's all my contact information. Now, can I have yours?
Biker Guy: She doesn't have to give you any information at all!
Cab Driver: But look, I thought it was a fair trade! My info for yours!
Biker Guy: No, it's entirely up to you, but you don't have to release anything if you don't want to!
Me: Uhh...
Simultaneously, the other biker had cornered Katherine and was muttering under his breath about "all those damn Indian cab drivers. Look, they're all Indian! They wear the same shirt, every day! Seriously, what are they even doing in this country?" Some of this may have been promoted by the alcohol on his breath. Did I mention the cabbie wasn't even Indian? Katherine: "Um yeah, can I please just go tend to my injured friend? Thanks."
After the cabbie left, yon helpful biker dude gave me his number in case I needed a witness for claims. He also pointed us to a nearby bike shop, since my bike was not exactly ridable at this point. "Tell them Liam sent you," he said. So, we trudged over and hesitantly approached the counter. I explained that I'd been hit by a cab and name dropped, and it worked like a charm. The girl immediately grabbed someone and had them look at my front wheel. The bike is now in moving condition, but making lots of ominous noises, so I'm bringing it in to a mechanic later today.
By now, we were kind of in the mood to head home. Or, I still felt like I could run a marathon, but it was getting late. Somehow, despite our attempts to leave, we were getting lost amidst the paths around Navy Pier and kept coming back to the same Intersection of Death. Let me also point out that the chivalrous biker dude was working for Bike Chicago, so he was hanging out on the same street corner outside. On the third pass, we decided to just stop and ask for directions, and he asked if I was into jazz because there was a show on Tues night, and if I wanted more details I could call/text him. That's right, in one night, I was hit AND hit on.
Let me go dig up my hemp bag and patchwork skirt...
Monday, August 13, 2007
Sunday, August 12, 2007
omg frenz
I really, really miss my Cornell kids.
Don't get me wrong, I've met some great people at the Fed, through friends of friends, on street corners, etc. Actually, the AEs are probably a lot more cohesive than many other work groups, since so many of us are transplants to the area and want to meet people. And there are lots of diverse, talented people among the AE bunch.
Still, sometimes I can't help thinking how different my friends from college are, friendships I've sought out and chosen to maintain, rather than being a matter of convenience. Suffice it to say that I would much rather go to a Karaoke Revolution & fried ice cream party than hang out at the hipster club with subtitled films playing in the background.
I have yet to find someone I can drag along to really crazy ethnic restaurants. (Remember that time 209 got Indian food? No, that other time?)
At the moment, I'm even kind of bored with drinking. (Gee, I guess that phase lasted all of a month.)
Anyway, check out the Mad World video for my sufficiently emo post. If I ever finish that arrangement of Mad World on chimes, I have this vision of people making similar formations on Ho Plaza while the song is played.
(I'm wicked tired. Good parts of weekend to be highlighted later.)
Don't get me wrong, I've met some great people at the Fed, through friends of friends, on street corners, etc. Actually, the AEs are probably a lot more cohesive than many other work groups, since so many of us are transplants to the area and want to meet people. And there are lots of diverse, talented people among the AE bunch.
Still, sometimes I can't help thinking how different my friends from college are, friendships I've sought out and chosen to maintain, rather than being a matter of convenience. Suffice it to say that I would much rather go to a Karaoke Revolution & fried ice cream party than hang out at the hipster club with subtitled films playing in the background.
I have yet to find someone I can drag along to really crazy ethnic restaurants. (Remember that time 209 got Indian food? No, that other time?)
At the moment, I'm even kind of bored with drinking. (Gee, I guess that phase lasted all of a month.)
Anyway, check out the Mad World video for my sufficiently emo post. If I ever finish that arrangement of Mad World on chimes, I have this vision of people making similar formations on Ho Plaza while the song is played.
(I'm wicked tired. Good parts of weekend to be highlighted later.)
Monday, August 6, 2007
Fed $hred$
Since I started work exactly 4 weeks ago, they decided to finally give us an orientation today. The bulk of the morning was spent watching cheesy videos on how to recognize sexual harassment (“Your performance review is this afternoon…why don’t you come to my office in 20 minutes to review me?”) and other mundane lectures on benefits and ethics. Apparently, we are barred from trading in financial securities, not that I have a portfolio. So much for that J.P. Morgan stock.
The more entertaining segment was the Fed money museum and building tour. Most of the exhibits focused on (you guessed it) money, and you can have your picture taken next to a suitcase filled with a million dollars! Or, you can battle inflation by playing the monetary policy game. The rare and historical bills collection includes a “Grand Watermelon” bill, so named because the zeros are shaped like watermelons. Although the face value is a thousand dollars, one was sold to a collector earlier this year for over $2 million.
We also took a peek at the cash processing department, where cash is offloaded from armored cars, catalogued by inspectors, examined for counterfeits, and unfit bills are taken out of circulation and shredded. The more modern Fed branches use automated robots and carts to access their vaults, which reminded me a lot of Gringotts (from Harry Potter). Around $13 billion is stored at this branch, on pallets like any other warehouse. It’s funny to think that people joke about having a license to print money, and well, we have one. Interestingly, there has never been a known break-in or attempted burglary of a Federal Reserve Bank.
At the end, I was handed a souvenir briquette of shredded currency, containing around 200 bills worth about $2,158 per inch. The ink used to print money contains heavy metals; rather than burning it, bills are shredded. Let me know if you think you can piece it all back together…
The more entertaining segment was the Fed money museum and building tour. Most of the exhibits focused on (you guessed it) money, and you can have your picture taken next to a suitcase filled with a million dollars! Or, you can battle inflation by playing the monetary policy game. The rare and historical bills collection includes a “Grand Watermelon” bill, so named because the zeros are shaped like watermelons. Although the face value is a thousand dollars, one was sold to a collector earlier this year for over $2 million.
We also took a peek at the cash processing department, where cash is offloaded from armored cars, catalogued by inspectors, examined for counterfeits, and unfit bills are taken out of circulation and shredded. The more modern Fed branches use automated robots and carts to access their vaults, which reminded me a lot of Gringotts (from Harry Potter). Around $13 billion is stored at this branch, on pallets like any other warehouse. It’s funny to think that people joke about having a license to print money, and well, we have one. Interestingly, there has never been a known break-in or attempted burglary of a Federal Reserve Bank.
At the end, I was handed a souvenir briquette of shredded currency, containing around 200 bills worth about $2,158 per inch. The ink used to print money contains heavy metals; rather than burning it, bills are shredded. Let me know if you think you can piece it all back together…
Thursday, August 2, 2007
Book Sales, Hipsters and Bells - oh my!
Last weekend, the Newberry Library was having a used book sale. Since I have fond memories of the Ithaca Book Sale (walking out with a dozen books after paying $3), I dragged Katherine along with me to do some perusing.
The Newberry Library is apparently a private library, with circulation and membership cards separate from the Chicago Public Library system. I was suitably impressed that someone was rich enough to cobble together a library of this size, but I can't imagine how they'd compete effectively against the vast CPL system. At any rate, the sale was decently large, scattered through a series of rooms on the first floor. Of course, the pickings weren't nearly as plentiful (or cheap) (or well-organized) as the Ithaca book sale. Mad props to Ith for hosting the 3rd largest book sale in the country, twice a year. I walked away with a few books (Flatland and Pride & Prejudice among them) and Katherine bought a charming (?) book on "Oriental Cooking" from the 60s, where msg is listed as "1 tsp Ac'cent" and there are chapters on cuisines from non-existent countries like Indochina and Burma.
The same weekend, Katherine's friend Warren decided to come visit because it is painful to exist in Iowa. Let's review Warren: he plays WoW, loves all things internet meme-related, watches Naruto, has a great falsetto and insanely good memory for pop music lyrics, and probably writes fanfic. That's right, I have found my substitute Whaley. This is fantastic, since I've already found my replacement Scott.
We spent some time bumming around Ukrainian Village at a hipster bar and hipster club. Chicago neighborhoods tend to range on a sliding hipness scale which I will define as follows:
Ethnic (predominantly Mexican, Chinese, etc) ---> Hipster (damn pretentious white people start to gentrify the neighborhod and raise rents) ---> Yuppie (fratty, makes you want to cut yourself)
Ukie Village definitely falls in the hipster category, with a nice juxtaposition of Eastern European folks with no teeth and guys wearing tight jeans and shirts smaller than the one I'm wearing. (Actually, that last bit was rather disturbing.) Walking into the Rainbo Club, I was a little concerned about my collared shirt. It was about as egregious a mistake as the time I accidentally wore orange to the Princeton hockey game.
Why has no one told me about the cinematic wonder that is Wayne's World, especially since it is based in Chicago?
On Sun night, I ventured to U of Chicago campus for the first time. They are doing a major renovation of their carillon, much like the "silent year" Cornell's tower had in 98-99, so I wanted to catch the last concert of their summer concert series. Wylie was playing, and I'm always impressed at how down to earth he is, given that he's kind of a big deal, president of the World Carillon Federation and all. I toured Rockefeller Chapel, watched the concert from the playing cabin, and then grabbed dinner (free beer & pizza on Chicago's dime!) with the U of C contingent. It was nice to see familiar faces from GCNA, and Lieve's husband is hilarious and quite Belgian. I think I need to drag them out of Hyde Park for dinner at some point. If only I could remember his name. Also, I have a crazy urge to practice right now.
(Some technical drivel that no one else is probably interested in:) There is a bit of a debate over whether the Rockefeller bells should be retuned during the renovation. Currently, the plans are to move their small, high bells further up so that they have a line of sight to the ground, install a new electronic practice stand, upgrade and standardize the current (rather unwieldy) playing console, install larger clappers, etc. After consulting with Verdin, Watson and other experts, it seems that many of the bells have a unique fourth partial that would be destroyed after retuning, and furthermore, although you can adjust the prime tone, apparently you can't tweak the quint, which would make for strange sounding bells indeed. Thus, it looks like Wylie's leaning towards simply not retuning the bells, or if worst comes to worst, recasting replicas of the current bells.
The Newberry Library is apparently a private library, with circulation and membership cards separate from the Chicago Public Library system. I was suitably impressed that someone was rich enough to cobble together a library of this size, but I can't imagine how they'd compete effectively against the vast CPL system. At any rate, the sale was decently large, scattered through a series of rooms on the first floor. Of course, the pickings weren't nearly as plentiful (or cheap) (or well-organized) as the Ithaca book sale. Mad props to Ith for hosting the 3rd largest book sale in the country, twice a year. I walked away with a few books (Flatland and Pride & Prejudice among them) and Katherine bought a charming (?) book on "Oriental Cooking" from the 60s, where msg is listed as "1 tsp Ac'cent" and there are chapters on cuisines from non-existent countries like Indochina and Burma.
The same weekend, Katherine's friend Warren decided to come visit because it is painful to exist in Iowa. Let's review Warren: he plays WoW, loves all things internet meme-related, watches Naruto, has a great falsetto and insanely good memory for pop music lyrics, and probably writes fanfic. That's right, I have found my substitute Whaley. This is fantastic, since I've already found my replacement Scott.
We spent some time bumming around Ukrainian Village at a hipster bar and hipster club. Chicago neighborhoods tend to range on a sliding hipness scale which I will define as follows:
Ethnic (predominantly Mexican, Chinese, etc) ---> Hipster (damn pretentious white people start to gentrify the neighborhod and raise rents) ---> Yuppie (fratty, makes you want to cut yourself)
Ukie Village definitely falls in the hipster category, with a nice juxtaposition of Eastern European folks with no teeth and guys wearing tight jeans and shirts smaller than the one I'm wearing. (Actually, that last bit was rather disturbing.) Walking into the Rainbo Club, I was a little concerned about my collared shirt. It was about as egregious a mistake as the time I accidentally wore orange to the Princeton hockey game.
Why has no one told me about the cinematic wonder that is Wayne's World, especially since it is based in Chicago?
On Sun night, I ventured to U of Chicago campus for the first time. They are doing a major renovation of their carillon, much like the "silent year" Cornell's tower had in 98-99, so I wanted to catch the last concert of their summer concert series. Wylie was playing, and I'm always impressed at how down to earth he is, given that he's kind of a big deal, president of the World Carillon Federation and all. I toured Rockefeller Chapel, watched the concert from the playing cabin, and then grabbed dinner (free beer & pizza on Chicago's dime!) with the U of C contingent. It was nice to see familiar faces from GCNA, and Lieve's husband is hilarious and quite Belgian. I think I need to drag them out of Hyde Park for dinner at some point. If only I could remember his name. Also, I have a crazy urge to practice right now.
(Some technical drivel that no one else is probably interested in:) There is a bit of a debate over whether the Rockefeller bells should be retuned during the renovation. Currently, the plans are to move their small, high bells further up so that they have a line of sight to the ground, install a new electronic practice stand, upgrade and standardize the current (rather unwieldy) playing console, install larger clappers, etc. After consulting with Verdin, Watson and other experts, it seems that many of the bells have a unique fourth partial that would be destroyed after retuning, and furthermore, although you can adjust the prime tone, apparently you can't tweak the quint, which would make for strange sounding bells indeed. Thus, it looks like Wylie's leaning towards simply not retuning the bells, or if worst comes to worst, recasting replicas of the current bells.
Tuesday, July 31, 2007
Talking with myself
Do you ever imagine hypothetical conversations? I have a longtime habit of doing so, and I think the frequency has intensified now that I have more time to let my mind wander (less homework, more commuting time). Tonight I played out a fairly extensive conversation in my head, filling out the setting, body language, conversational constructs I'd use, the other person's responses and tone, etc.
Of course, the exercise gets more interesting if environmental factors align and the conversation could actually take place. But when that moment arrives, it never happens the way you've envisioned it. After all, as much as I try, I am not the sole author of the script.
Maybe that's why it's so satisfying to create neatly packaged dialogues.
Of course, the exercise gets more interesting if environmental factors align and the conversation could actually take place. But when that moment arrives, it never happens the way you've envisioned it. After all, as much as I try, I am not the sole author of the script.
Maybe that's why it's so satisfying to create neatly packaged dialogues.
Thursday, July 26, 2007
Gotham City, beta version
Tonight at 8ish, I was on my way back to the Fed to pick up my bike, and was wandering down Adams when a guy on the sidewalk suddenly started waving at me. He looked a little well-dressed to be begging for money, but I instinctively veered away anyway. Then he told me the street was closed. He had a florescent yellow vest wrapped around his waist, so I decided to heed his advice. Continuing down Jackson, I ran into more yellow tape and was soon accosted by another woman. After explaining that my bike was only 25 yards away, she let me cross into the top-secret security zone.
Just to confirm my hunch, I asked a nearby cop what the furor was all about. Indeed, they are filming the next Batman film tonight outside of my workplace. You can see the filming listed on the Chicago Film Office site. It's posted under the "code name" Rory's First Kiss.
Just to confirm my hunch, I asked a nearby cop what the furor was all about. Indeed, they are filming the next Batman film tonight outside of my workplace. You can see the filming listed on the Chicago Film Office site. It's posted under the "code name" Rory's First Kiss.
Sunday, July 22, 2007
Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte
After spending all of yesterday huddled with a book, I ventured out to the Lakefront park for a run. I was handily armed with a map (from my sugar daddy Merlin), and decided my goal was to reach Shedd Aquarium before turning around. I did make it there, but it was kind of painful. It's been a while since I bothered running. On the plus side, it doesn't take much to see noticeable improvements, so in another month..
I noticed a dirt mound labeled "Sledding Slope" and laughed. Oh Libe Slope, how I miss your 46% grade on the way to class every morning.
On the drive back, NPR mentioned a Sing-Along concert in Millenium Park that afternoon. I figured I'd been meaning to get a letterbox down there, plus I'm always game for singing in public, so I biked downtown to hang out with a bunch of parents and their kids. Some of the material was interesting (folk songs, Beatles, mariachi band), and we even worked on our vowels a bit (to get rid of those ugly American diphthongs)! I am giving serious thought to joining a choral group (U of C chorale?) in the fall because I miss performing in a large ensemble. Hah, that's right, I can be that sketchy townie hanging around campus, only it's not my campus.
According to the series program, there's quite a few more (free) performances throughout the rest of the summer. Beethoven 6, anyone?
Drat, the jazz festival Herbie Hancock student tickets are sold out. Nooo!
I noticed a dirt mound labeled "Sledding Slope" and laughed. Oh Libe Slope, how I miss your 46% grade on the way to class every morning.
On the drive back, NPR mentioned a Sing-Along concert in Millenium Park that afternoon. I figured I'd been meaning to get a letterbox down there, plus I'm always game for singing in public, so I biked downtown to hang out with a bunch of parents and their kids. Some of the material was interesting (folk songs, Beatles, mariachi band), and we even worked on our vowels a bit (to get rid of those ugly American diphthongs)! I am giving serious thought to joining a choral group (U of C chorale?) in the fall because I miss performing in a large ensemble. Hah, that's right, I can be that sketchy townie hanging around campus, only it's not my campus.
According to the series program, there's quite a few more (free) performances throughout the rest of the summer. Beethoven 6, anyone?
Drat, the jazz festival Herbie Hancock student tickets are sold out. Nooo!
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