Last thursday I turned 23. I started the day riding a low that i’d been stuck in for a few weeks. My life has been unhinged in the last month; school and home both changed, a new year ahead and beyond June, I have no idea how i will fill my time until death. Needless to say, I was feeling overwhelmed and not too special when I woke up Thursday.
I spent my morning doing really practical things like cleaning the cat’s litter and washing my laundry. Then I decided that since the sun was out and it was so warm, i’d take my bike to Nun’s Island.
The ride is nice in the way that I am stretching my legs and seeing the island, but I am still sort of down. It’s like the parties i’d been at over the last weeks; I can objectively view the situation and realize that it’s enjoyable, but something is off. As I round out the racetrack and look across the river, I see a blackened city and a single lightning bolt tracing a line from the sky into downtown. Time to get home.
The situation deteriorates as I hit the bridge. Dust is flying into my eyes and my teeth and there is a crazy crazy wind. This wind is pushing through the metal rungs of the bridge railings so that they humm and drone at me. The afterlife of this music gets caught in my bike spokes and my already frail bike is pushed around in its lane. I’m entering an alternate universe. I’m in a vortex. I’m reliving the birth experience. I’m experiencing time travel!
I start to understand that this is some sort of wild rite of passage when the rain begins. At first I think it’s only rain, but i soon realize… it hurts so much because there’s ice in there too. At this point i’m in major pain; i’m cold in my shorts and t-shirt and just blind-yelling into the dust and the ice HOLYYY SHIIIIIIIT!!!
I am halfway between the city and the island. There are no buses here except for the ones that go to the casino, and they won’t stop for me. I decide that I have no other choice than to ask for help. Running my bike up the long driveway, I lean it against a mailbox and walk into the shishi Northern Tropics apartment building that I soon learn may as well be a senior’s-only residence. Gary is waiting in the anteroom of the building for the shuttle, and he tells me his birthday is in a few days too. He is about to turn 83. As we chat the wind hasn’t forgotten me. It slaps my bike out of its casual lean and collapses it on the driveway. The seniors cry “the shuttle’s coming! It’s blocking the way!!’” and I know it’s dangerous to stand in between them and their casino, so I run out to get it, and try to ride away. The only problem is that my bike chain has jammed from its pavement dive. If I want my pedals to move I have to kick through with my heels, and pretty soon this doesn’t even work. The chain sort of jumps over the track without catching.
Gary told me that there was a bus station at the next intersection, which is a good kilometer away, but I decide to brave it so that I can get home. When I finally round the corner, running with my hands freezing on my bike handles, I see a row of taxis. Locking my bike to a pole I run to the taxi at the front of the line and settle into the back. The story of what this barefooted cabbie told me on the ride home is a whole other event in itself, but I was pretty much home-free.
When I wrote that this birthday adventure was a rite of passage, I actually believe it. The thing is, I wasn’t upset when I was pelted with ice, or when my bike broke. I was in amazingly high spirits and felt like it was a hilarious adventure. If this is what the world was gonna throw at me I could take it! 23 would be a breeze! I got home truly feeling like it was my birthday. All the negativity had somehow been purged by the storm and I was a new woman! Rebirth by wind and hail.
Annik
