I Came, I Saw, I Went Home

As you no doubt recall, Friday was the day Italy's second-most unctuous export after olive oil, Mario Cipollini, was due to visit Brooklyn:

And given the outsized role he's played on this blog over the past ten years I knew I'd be remiss were I to forego this rare opportunity to pay my respects and take his measure in person:

("You gonna need a very big ruler.")

According to the Red Hook Crit website the ride was set to take place in Prospect park at 9:30am.  Back when I lived in Brooklyn, 15 minutes and a few strokes of the pedal would have been all that it took to deliver me to the start.  However, now that I reside in the northwest Bronx, a trip to Prospect Park is a good 20 mile ride.  All of this is to say that I had every intention of being punctual, but by the time I crossed under the fog-enshrouded George Washington Bridge I was running something like an hour behind schedule:

Alas, if only I'd had an ebike like this guy I might have made up the time easily:

The brand of the above bike was "Juiced," and I'm assuming that's the "CrossCurrent" model that sells for $1,499:

Hey, whatever works for you, but if there's one thing I've noticed about ebikes it's that they encourage their riders to circle at red lights even more than fixies do.

Once I'd ridden nearly the length of Manhattan I merged onto the new Chrystie Street bike lane:

And mounted the Manhattan Bridge, where even at this late morning hour riders were still streaming towards Manhattan in considerable numbers:

Either New York City's got an actual bicycle rush hour now, or else they were simply fleeing the Cipollini.

Upon alighting in Brooklyn I made straight for Grand Army Plaza:

Where a group I took to be the Brooklyn chapter of the Mario Cipollini Appreciation Society in fact turned out to be park volunteers:

I'm assuming the Prospect Park Alliance heard Mario Cipollini would be visiting, and so they brought a wheelbarrow full of sawdust to soak up any oil slicks and keep the roadway safe for the park users.

Anyway, I'd long missed the rollout, but it wasn't long before I heard a flurry of Fredly activity nearby:

And moments later I was among them:

The main group was well ahead of me, and presumably these were the riders who'd become overwhelmed by Cipollini's pheromones and dropped back to breathe some unadulterated air for awhile.  Obviously many of these riders were in town to compete in the Red Hook Crit, and as you can imagine it was thrilling to be among the crème de la crème of international fixiedom.  Every few moments I'd hear the unmistakable whoosh of crabon wheels and the rattle of over-tensioned chains, only to be passed by yet another rider with tattoos and a mustache:

(Sagan?  More like Sag-ain't.)

Indeed, when it comes to sheer fastidiousness in the realm of appearance, fixie-crit riders have overtaken roadies like that guy on the Juiced bike overtook me:

Given the sheer volume of runners, dog walkers, and Orthodox Jewish power-walkers, Prospect Park at mid-morning is not exactly the ideal venue for a huge group ride, so rather than attempt to make my way to the front I instead dropped back, took the cutoff, and waited for them at the park entrance.  Before long they came back around, and while it was hard to pick him out at first:

I soon spotted the unmistakable profile of Cipollini himself:

And once the ride ended I watched as he graciously posed for photos with his many admirers:

I'd briefly considered bringing something along for Cipollini to sign.  Indeed, at the risk of sounding too arrogant, I'm something of a sensation in Italy myself.  Not only have my books been translated into Italian, but I was also the guest of honor at "Full Bike Day," which was without a doubt one of the fullest bike days the region of Puglia has ever seen:

Therefore, I figured I'd do Cipollini the honor of presenting him a copy of the Italian edition of my book, asking him to sign it, and then taking it back and keeping it for myself...though as I was preparing to leave I realized that rummaging around in boxes looking for a copy of the Italian edition of my book would have made me even later, so ultimately I just said "Fuck it."

I also briefly considered taking a picture with Cipollini myself as a souvenir, but given the earnestness of the occasion I felt like injecting irony into the proceedings would be kind of a douchey thing to do, so instead I just took pictures of other people taking pictures:

I have no idea why the riders in the background are shielding their eyes, and I can only assume they can't bear to look directly at a skinsuited Cipollini from behind, much in the same way you can't look directly at the Ark of the Covenant or else your face will melt:

Once Cipollini had graced everyone with handshakes and pixels I headed down to R&A bike shop, where according to the Red Hook Crit website a "Q&A" was to take place:

However, when I asked someone at R&A where the Q&A was taking place they looked at me like I was an idiot and said they didn't know anything about any Q&A but that Cipollini was inside:

I can only assume that since everyone had gotten what they came for the whole Q&A idea must have fallen by the wayside, and once again I was disinclined to bother a guy who clearly wanted to tap at his phone uninterrupted after having given generously of his time.  So I paid my respects to the Red Hook Crit organizer and made my way back to the Bronx.  The cherry blossoms were in bloom:

The bridge was now free from the fog in which it had been imprisoned:

And as I contemplated the cycle of life and these symbols of rebirth it occurred to me for the first time that I might be pregnant.

I should have shielded my eyes.

Oh, and if you're wondering what happened at the Red Hook Crit, I have no idea, but I did see this on the Twitter:

So crazy! Gllad you made it unscathed @alexreich00 in that crazy start of the @redhookcrit race. @thronecycles

A post shared by ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Design,Fixie,Bmx,Moto (@rustedjalopy_) on Apr 30, 2017 at 12:12pm PDT

So there you go.