Helmet Zealot

16 February 2007

HELMET ZEALOT

The short distance I ride my bike from my car to my building is all sidewalk. All sidewalk. The only times I'm on the road is crossing at intersections. Which means I am on the street less than pedestrians, since it takes me no time at all to cross, whereas the walkers take considerably longer.

That said, I don't wear a helmet. Why should I? Right? I mean, if it's so goddamned dangerous, why don't pedestrians wear helmets as well?

So I arrived at my building, rode the bike up the ramp and hopped off of it in my customary way. As I negotiated the double doors of the building, working my bike through the awkward entrance, I noticed one of those bike couriers standing at the security counter, delivering a package or something.

The security guys said hello to me, in their customary way, as I said hello back, pulling out my wallet and waving it in front of the magnetic security scanner. I heard the familiar beep that indicates, yes, I'm allowed in the building (this time).

As a side-note, I prefer to carry my bike up the stairs. I'm way too impatient to wait for the elevator; plus, whenever I have, a dozen people always manage to come up behind, wanting to cram themselves into the elevator with me; I hate that.

Before I could turn and make my way toward the stairwell, the bicycle courier guy said to me: "No helmet huh?"

A bit stunned by the massively insinuating question, I replied, "Nah; I don't go that far really." I started walking away, wheeling my bike along, thinking he's got places to go, other deliveries to make, and I needed to get upstairs and start working.

But just then, the Helmet Zealot spoke again: "Got nothing to lose then?"

Normally, I would humor such a statement with: "Yes, that's true. I mean, think about it. If I had anything to lose, would I be so stupid as to ride around without a helmet? So obviously, the fact that I do not wear a helmet should indicate to you that, no, I do not have anything to lose." But I didn't say that. For some reason, perhaps it was a particularly cold ride that day, and I was in no mood to play along. So instead, I rejoined: "No, I'm just not on the street very much ..."

"All it takes is just one car, ya know?" the Bicycle Saftey Evangelist responded.

Suddenly I found myself supremely irritated. I don't know why. He just caught me at the wrong time, I suppose. So I replied: "Sure, and all it takes is for one piano to fall on me, ya know? Or a plane, ya know? Or an anvil, ya know?" I gave him my best "So-why-don't-you-just-shut-your-meddling-pie-hole-after-all-you're-just-a-piss-ant-bike-courier-ya-know" expression. As I turned to continue on my way, I could see him shaking his condescending and self-righteous head at me.

Now I look for him whenever I'm downtown. One of these days, I'll see him again, and when I do, I will holler at him and point up at the sky: "Look OUT! That anvil is about to fall on your head!" When he looks, I will laugh and push him off of his sissy-ass courier bike. Don't worry, he'll be fine. After all, he'll be wearing a helmet, right?