While bike club was waiting outside the Mobil on Woodward Saturday afternoon, a lady walked by and told our group to be careful, and that we should wear helmets. When she looked me directly in the eye, I commented that "should" was a relative term but that I appreciated her concern. We carpooled down to the CAID for a scavenger hunt as part of the Blue Moon in June. Most of the dozen or so of us there were from bike club. We divided into teams of four and were given lists of items to collect from around the city and various locations to take photos in front of. Not ten minutes into the hunt I wiped out. I credit myself with great reflexes, as I cradled my head with my left arm which took most of the impact when I flipped right over the handlebars. In defense of my disinterest to wear a helmet, it wouldn't have protected my skull any better. If anything, I might've had a harder time getting my arm up and absorbed the impact with my head. Tumbling around I cut up my left knee and my ankles pretty good. As quickly as I fell I got back on my feet, carried my bike off the road and took some time to catch my breath. The adrenaline was keeping me from feeling much pain - I was more overcome by shock. My friends told me that we would ride easy and stick to familiar locations. I had no intention of giving up and backing out of the scavenger hunt. Realizing my frailty was humbling. It had been too long since I had a physically painful accident.
Our limited knowledge of the downtown area took us through Midtown, Corktown and back to the Old Miami where there was a scheduled meet up halfway through the hunt. As we made our way to Eastern Market, I noticed that in our hurry I had left my messenger bag somewhere. There wasn't anything really important in it, but I had been using that bag since high school and it was adorned with several irreplaceable buttons. I called around to see if anyone had seen me leave it at the Old Miami, but to no avail. After a picture in front of Russell Street Deli, we went through Greektown before returning to the CAID. Our group was the last to check in, and didn't have any of the large point items that the winners had. I lamented over my injuries and losing my bag, but it didn't take me long to change my focus to healing and letting go of a possession that while memorable isn't really that important in the greater scheme of things.
That night Child Bite was having a record release show at the Magic Bag. Bars of Gold was one of the opening bands and after having seen them once at the WAB, I had mentally noted them as a band to see again at the next opportunity. They were followed by Silverghost, who I enjoy more and more each time I see them - especially the song "Crystal Mountains." Having never heard Child Bite, I was going to pick up a Bars of Gold shirt and head home, but I ran into a friend on the way out and I asked him how good they are. He told me that he had toured with them once, and their live shows are always an experience. His use of the word "experience" made me rethink leaving. I grabbed the shirt, stuffed it in my pocket and headed back up to the stage. Elaborate lighting, tons of energy and really tight instrumentalism made me glad I stayed. They reminded me of bands like The Red Light Sting or Minus The Bear who have a unique sound that is really great under the right circumstances, though at the same time it's not something I can just listen to all the time. On the way back to my house I checked out the shirt I bought only to find that the guy behind the merch table had accidentally given me an unprinted one. It seemed to fit the theme of the weekend.
Unable to sleep from full-body soreness, I contemplated pulling an all-nighter. Laying awake I realized the exact time and place where I had lost my messenger bag: while setting up a picture in front of the Fischer Theatre. After conceding to a few hours of sleep I headed downtown on the way to my parent's to see if it was still there. Someone was sleeping on the very bench where I'd left my bag, so I creeped around behind to see if I could spot it. Of course it wasn't there, so I called my mom to say I was on my way over.
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