Tuesday, August 11, 2009

The night of the good samaritan.

Something slightly unusual occurred on Friday night.

It certainly wasn't unusual that I decided to head to the Wig & Pen for eleventy thousand after work Kolsch's. Starting at 3pm probably wasn't a great idea but my plan was to have a few followed by dinner then off home on the trusty fixie. But we had the much sought after corner table, which couldn't be given up lightly.

What comes next may surprise a few of you who know that I really don't like the Moose as an establishment for enjoying a few quiet ones. Luckily the 'ones' I had there weren't that quiet.

Everything soon after I reached the Moose began to blur, at one stage I remember chatting to a barman about my fixie, he'd seen it locked up outside. He asked if he could contact me by email; however, in my state I couldn't even write or remember it (even though it is MY NAME).

The night progressed somewhat ordinarily for a blinder of a night.....until I decided to leave.

The bouncers firstly noticed that I was having issues unlocking my bike. They came over and offered a helping hand. Little did they know that the key we were trying to unlock my Kryptonite lock with was in actual fact my house key (little did I know that it was my house key). They retrieved a small ladder to try and lift my bike over the sign it was locked to, to no avail.

Next was the biggest surprise. The police arrived and also tried to unlock my lock. Using their own tools to try and pry the lock open. I was very noticeably intoxicated and everybody was trying to help me ride home.

The next thing I saw was quiet amusing. A bouncer running from the Moose grasping a spinning angle grinder - probably not the thing the local punter trying to enter the pub wanted to see. Within a couple of seconds sparks were flying and my bike was free.

The next thing I remember is waking up lying on the bike path somewhere near Lyneham (about six km from town). Two men were running toward me asking if I was okay. I assured them that I was fine, was just on my way home and that I'd be on my way in no time. The two guys, speaking in strong South African accents, told me that they would drive me home. I said I'd be fine but they started to pick my bike up and ask how they could remover the front wheel so that it fitted in the car. Clearing the garden debris from my body I grudgingly agreed.

Once I was crammed into the back of the hatch-back with my disassembled bike, I abruptly fell asleep again before being awoken as we arrived in my suburb. I directed the guys to my place where they unpacked my bike and were on their way, like masked heroes of the night.

I now believe in Karma.....because I didn't even wake with a hangover.