C'est le Prix

(Happy, Ramzi? French articles are, surprisingly, not in my vast collection of talents.)

I don't even really like cars.

Or maybe I do.

I've always preferred manuals, and though my car now is an automatic, I'm endlessly thrilled that it also has the sport shift option. I use it mostly in traffic when I'm angry, or to merge onto highways. I have a teensy little control issue, and a manual shift is clutch. (See what I did there?)

The Grand Prix caused Baltimore residents a pretty headache in the year or so it took to create. Major roads blocked off for repaving caused agonizing gridlock. And let's not even talk about GRIDACALYPSE THURSDAY last week when pre-race road closures caused the worst traffic Baltimore city has ever seen. I left work two hours early and drove home on the verrrrry west side of the city...to Catonsville. And then snuck up 95 to come into Federal Hill the back way. A good thirty miles out of my way just to avoid downtown.

And cabs anywhere this weekend? Forget about it. I think I walked a total of ten miles to get to various places in the city.

But, I'll admit - along with the rest of the race-goers - it was pretty fantastic.

I made it down on Friday, and was glad I did. Friday was general admission to all areas of the race, which meant that I could go and sit with all the rich people in the VIP areas to watch the practice races. Disappointingly, there was only one crash that day, and I didn't even see it.

(WHAT?!

COME ON. I go to hockey games to watch the fights, and car races to see the crashes! I AM A SENSATIONALIST. I make no excuses.)

There were some pretty sick crashes on other days (thanks, YouTube). And the best part? You could enter and exit various points of the race with open containers. It was as though all of downtown Baltimore were some giant stadium. I am a huge fan of Events With Beer, and therefore I was a huge fan of the Grand Prix.

I didn't go near it Saturday or Sunday, however. Saturday, I was lucky enough to escape the mayhem for a beautiful wedding down in Annapolis of one of my college roommates. Sunday, I stayed far away from downtown until early evening and, even then, the carnage of drunkards and tourists was extreme.

Still. Way to pull it off, SRB. You were in the hot seat there for a while, but it seems you done good in the end. And, somehow, Baltimore came off looking sparkling clean in all of that IndyCar footage. The cameras didn't really pan about five blocks in any direction to showcase the rows and rows of empty rowhouses and rampant poverty, but hey, that's not what the world wants to see, right? Grand Prix sure as hell wasn't about poverty. Millions of dollars whirring by at 120 miles per hour is a sharp juxtaposition to homelessness.

I'm going off on a tangent here, so I'll pull the focus back to this: I want to ride in a race car. The noise, the speed, the flying-low-to-the-ground...I might need to add this to the bucket list. I always thought I wanted to drive a really expensive car (don't ask me for details, because I have none regarding automobiles) on the Autobahn. But maybe this race car ride might push that one down a few on the bucket list.

Anyhoodle. Labor Day, summer is drawing to a close, but I am packing my suitcase and getting ready to head off to Key West on Thursday for the first real vacation of the year. Because I don't count Vegas as a restful, restorative vacation.

Cheers!

The Conversation

Oh, Artscape.

Headed up for a few hours on Saturday, dropping out of the party every now and then to get some respite from the sun. And by "dropping out of the party," I mean "dropping into the bar/restaurant scene." Brewer's Art, City Cafe, Joss. A trifecta of Mt. Vernon perfection.

Honestly, though I know it pains thousands of hard-working artists to hear, the best part of Artscape has got to be the people. It is a coalition of every single archetype of character in Baltimore City, and I'd wager to throw in an "AND BEYOND!" there too. I spent the entire afternoon rubbernecking the attendees.

But, in what can only be described as 'freakish luck,' we happened upon a Puerto Rican gentleman who had been imbibing for the better part of the day (if not the better part of 2011, sounded like) who proceeded to explain to us why his (white and half-his-age) girlfriend (whom he loves with all his heart) tried to run him over with her car.

It was suggested without the slightest hint of braggadocio, without exaggeration, and just plain and straightforward: "My girlfriend, who I love with all my heart, tried to run me over with her car."

"Why?"

"She found a Russian in my shower."

This was most certainly a story we wanted to hear.

It turns out that said attempted vehicular manslaughter was the result of the girlfriend (whom he loves with all his heart) coming home and chancing upon a scenario that involved the makings of a romantic dinner and a girl (who was not, in fact, herself) taking a shower. Upon said discovery, the girlfriend (whom he loves with all his heart) stormed out of the apartment to the garage and attempted to peel away in a fit of (rightly attributed) anger, whereupon the gentleman (who was, at this point, being refused drinks by the clearly-perturbed bartender) inserted himself between the automobile and his girlfriend (whom he loves with all his heart)'s escape route and nearly found himself pancaked by the grief of the cheated-upon.

But why, we asked, was there a Russian girl in his shower?

Naturally, clearly, plainly, we did not understand the needs of this man. We could not conceive of the idea that he could love his girlfriend with all of his heart and still feel the need to stash away a Russian chick in his shower. And cook her dinner.

The two, he insisted, are separate issues.

Apparently it was common sense to him. Perhaps not to us. Or to his girlfriend (whom he loves with all his heart).

But even better than this story was the company he was keeping at the bar: a young, fete'd-out paaaaaarty boiiiii with the brightest blue color contacts I'd ever seen in my life, who was cruising the bartenders in between telling us stories of growing up in New York City proper ("Whatever, I have so shanked a bitch before and I'll do it again!") and his dog (who is, apparently a "ghetto Jack Russel terrier" with "his own wine tasting").

You cannot make these things up.

Oh, and there was some art and stuff. Culture and whatnot.

Artscape Weekend

Weddings, Brew Fests, Cool Runnings, Et Al

Oh, man.

So, been super busy (as always...not really anything new there) but also working in preparations for Snap's wedding this coming weekend. I've got the dress, the shoes, the awesome date, and am fine-tuning the toast. I don't want to give too much away, but suffice it to say that I tried to incorporate a spectrum of emotion that includes Supreme Humiliation. Ok, maybe not humiliation, per say. A touch of humor, maybe. At Snap's expense. Har.

So I went on a long run on Saturday (working towards the Survivor 7 on June 12), and was running peacefully along in some sort of Zenned-out state when I realized that there were throngs of people lining the sidewalks. So I shifted over and ran in the street. Curiously, no cars. Excellent running conditions, however, and the street was even conveniently mapped out with lines of orange cones. Then I realized people were cheering. Just as I was congratulating myself on such good form, I glanced over my shoulder to see Fifi gliding along behind me. Apparently, I had found my running trail along AVAM's annual Kinetic Sculpture race route.

Slightly embarrassing, especially because there wasn't any place for me to turn off, so I just went with it for probably another quarter mile.

So if any of you witnessed the early part of the route and saw some ass running while everyone else was biking, it was me. Oops.

Also worthy of note here was that City Paper's Annual Brew Fest was a couple of weekends ago. As always, it fell on the most gorgeous spring day. I don't know how they do it every year, but it always seems that the weather is in gross extremes leading up to this event. 90 degrees with 100% humidity one day, 45 degrees and raining the next. And then CPABF comes along, and it's 75 degrees, sunny, no humidity. Just perfect.

I'm digging beer right now. Among my favorites:
Boulder's Kind Blue, blueberry wheat
Allagash White Ale
Hitachino Nest, white ale (harder to find, given present export situation)
Dogfish Head Midas Touch, ancient Turkish fermentation recipe (ridiculously hard to find, and ringing in at a whopping $14 per 4-pack in some cases)

So, spring is in full effect. Which means running outside, beer consumption, weddings, and soon- KAYAKING!

Hooray, spring!

Oh, and somewhere in there I'm gonna turn 29. Awesome.

Witchcraft

Last night found me on the couch with an ice pack on my shin and a warm compress on my face.

I am attempting to fight two different wars on two entirely different fronts: shin splints and ANOTHER sinus infection.

Because I can't stand the thought of subjecting myself to another round of antibiotics, I've decided to go holistic this time. Which means chugging a glass of water with 2 TBS of apple cider vinegar 3x per day (gag), eating boat-loads of garlic, inhaling a bucket of steam every half hour or so, warm compresses, hot showers with the water running directly onto my face, and pretty much any other method of breaking up this congestion and getting the crap out of my head. Believe it or not, all of these things work.

The trouble is, as always, "user error." These methods do work, and in ways far more conducive to overall healing then blasting your poor body with a Z-pack (which is like blasting an ant hill with a hand grenade), but they are time-consuming, sometimes expensive, and require diligence. I spent the greater part of last night transitioning between icing my shin on the couch (20 minutes on, 20 minutes off) and sticking my face in a pan of steaming water.

I also spent last night out-geeking myself. I freaking love crossword puzzles and documentaries. So what's not to love about a documentary ABOUT crossword puzzles? (One of the things I love the most about being single is the ability to Netflix whatever I choose without comment.)

So, icing and steaming to keep this body from falling apart. Have to take a couple of days off of running as well. The shin splint in my right leg is getting out of hand, and I'd rather take a couple days off now then an entire month later.

In other news: Artscape tonight! And how convenient that the Charm City Drinkulator--I mean Circulator--has a stop a couple blocks from my house? Artscape is fantastic. An incredibly eclectic mix of Baltimore's best, amazing artists and live performances (Cold War Kids!), beer gardens and block parties and all of the things that make Baltimore street festivals fun and interesting.

In the mean time: steaming and icing. Have to be in tip-top shape for summer daytime drinking-out-of-doors.