My Weekend Kicks Your Weekend's Butt

Too much fun.

On Friday I went down to DC for the WHO press conference announcing their 'new' stance on DDT, which is the same as their old stance - it's good when used for indoor residual spraying (IRS). The reporters shanghai'd the discussion and turned it into the environmentalist/safety debate, but most of the resulting articles were pretty well balanced and used Kochi Arata's only comprehensible quote, "DDT will help us save African babies."

Can't argue with that one.

Because I had to get back to catch my bus for New York I skipped the Global Health Council meeting - no huge loss as most of the key people are in Dakar for the World Bank Booster meeting. It was fun roaming around DC hobnobbing, and I even got to do a little investigative journalism of my own with a friend over on the Hill. Caught the MARC back to Baltimore, took a taxi home, researched, packed, and hopped on my bike (the Nishiki, after all) and got down to the Liberty Street bus stop in the pouring rain. I expected a large bus but what rolled up was a 15 passenger van - the shuttle to the Travel Plaza where we would board the big bus. Hm. No room in back for my bike. No rack on top I could bungee it to. Que faire? Fortunately the driver is Chinese, i.e. not American, i.e. resourceful, and we took the front wheel off and slid it into the narrow space next to the door. Some girl's mom called and she said "Hey mom, I'm in this van going to New York, there's like 16 people AND A BIKE," and everyone cracked up.

We get out and board the real bus. I am still pretty soaking wet from the ride down. I eat a Luna bar and read the New Yorker article on Neuroeconomics and most of the one on Clinton, which is remarkably long-winded and not very informative.

Arriving in New York I disembark and hail a taxi. The bike (still in two parts) disappears into the cavernous trunk. Ten bills later I am at 72nd and Columbus right near where John Lennon was shot and Yoko still lives, and Matt meets me. Have not seen the dude for a year and a half and damn did we have a great night, as always. Except that I forget to eat in my excitement and rue my decision the next morning as I struggle for energy. At least I remembered to take my contacts out.

Saturday morning I take the bike on the subway, following NYC bike policy (use the service gate; stay at the end of the car; wait for crowds to clear before using stairs etc). Five people ask me for directions as I walk it down to NYU. Duh! No one from out of town would have a bike in the city. Ha. Plus I have my permanant air of helpfulness about me. I meet up with A and we take his new fixie and my Nishiki out for a little jaunt.

Let me just say that biking in New York is AWESOME. Cars are used to you, there are even bike lanes, more or less, and potholes are few and far between. Basically the opposite of Charm City.

We head up to Central Park to boulder, eat hot dogs, ride around, and wear ourselves out before meeting up with department people for cheap-ass sushi in the East Village. I am the only American at the table and the only non-economist; however, I get bonus points for being my father's daughter, especially as one of the guys actually understands what he does. Cool!

The economists go off to see Little Miss Sunshine and we grab a drink at a too-cool-for-school sake bar, then call it a night. Sunday we head to Brooklyn via the East River bike path (all I could think is this is where they toss the bodies) and the WTC site. Taking the car ramp up the Brooklyn Bridge turns out to be NotSmart, so we cheat death and cross the freeway to get back down to the bike/pedestrian lane. Plans to check out Prospect Park are thwarted by the very entertaining Atlantic Avenue festival, which has DJs and soul bands and drumlines and waaay too many potters and t-shirt manufacturers. Brooklyn has more fixies than Manhattan and also more charm. Or perhaps I mean trees. The correlation between these three things is pretty strong, but, I suspect, confounded by an unknown fourth variable.

We head back over the Manhattan Bridge, which I like less than the Brooklyn but only for its large, regular gaps between pavement slabs. A kicks beaucoup ass with the fixie and navigates us back without a hitch, in time to pack up my stuff and roll up to Macy's to catch the bus. Which I nearly miss because I wait across the street, bien sur. No clue if it will drop me downtown or if I will be biking home from the Travel Plaza at 10pm - fortunately, there is the same 15 passenger van minus 10 passengers and so plenty of room for me and the Nishiki. Back at Liberty Street I saddle up and ride home, cursing the potholes and my overstuffed backpack and scary Baltimore traffic, exhausted from the weekend in the best possible way.