Student Life

Lately, I have been getting in touch with my former student self.  Well, actually, given that I took night classes after undergrad, then went back to grad school for 4 years, took the New York bar exam and have since taken (read: registered for.  Not so much with the follow-through on these) numerous courses in Spanish and French, not sure I really ever lost the student in me. 

I certainly never lost the “Oh crap, I’m down to last $40 and you just know that is going towards beer” budget. (although, let’s be honest.  It now goes towards a juicy, cold-climate pinot noir) And, sadly, I have Dominos on speed dial and still feel the need to spend entire days moving from my bed to my couch and then back to my bed.  So, maybe I am just getting more in touch with the high school side of my former student self. 

Or, at least, that is the last time I babysat.  And, rode a bike.  (except that time in Napa Valley on a vacay extension to a work trip, when I had the brilliant idea that my work colleagues and I would leisurely meander through the grapevines, quaffing wines and sampling gourmet cheese and crackers.  Yeah?  The reality?  My poor friend Payam trying to carry back the 5 bottles of wine we’d decided to buy (in the interest of avoiding drunk cycling) while navigating the single blacktop scorching two lane highway that ALL cars are forced to traverse to go from winery to winery (hence the no-go on the drunk cycling).  And, my other lovely friend (who shall remain nameless!) who decided she had had enough and flagged down our other friends in an SUV to give her a lift home.  So much for the leisure, meandering, quaffing etc.

But, I bought a bike last spring, fully intending to cycle to and from work.  The money I would save!  The time and fitness I would regain!

Then, the reality of the limbs I would lose, sobered me up. 

So, I never did actually get on the bike.  Well, once.   When I had to get it home from the shop.  (really, they should deliver those things! I mean, trying to balance my shopping bags filled with my fancy lock, helmet, new cycle clothes, etc and ride the damn thing.  It’s a wonder I ever got on it again.)

But, then the tires went flat from lack of use.  So, I took that as a sign.  But, lately, I have been re-inspired.  Several of my friends cycle to work.  And, London sponsors a day where they close the main roads and let the cyclists take over.  This seemed like as good a time as any to get back out on the open road.   Luckily for me, I have two good friends who guided me to and from the closed roads and there were only a few scary moments.  Probably the worst of which was when some freaky dude asked me to go for a drink as I was trying to avoid being hit by a bus.

So, I was sure I was ready to cycle to work the following Monday.  But, as luck would have it, I actually was being a student again.  Because I am a big nerd, I have decided to become admitted to practice law in England as well as New York, so I have been taking the required exams and the last of them (unless I failed it, which, given that it was legal accounting and ethics (could there be more of an oxymoron??) is very possible) was that very week.  Which, turns out, was a good thing.  Because that Monday there was a tube strike.  Now, I know that I would have been all prepared with my shiny newly inflated tires, helmet, clothes etc and eager to hit the road.  But, so were about 300 extra busses, taxis and scary novice cyclists.  So, maybe not the safest.

And, by the way – how civilized is this?  All the tube strikes in the UK are planned.  Meaning when they start AND when they stop.  It’s a very polite, (insert chipper Britishy accent) “Oh, yes, we are so so sorry to disrupt your commute, perhaps if you could just stay home, or take one of the remaining non-affected lines or an additional bus for the next 24 hours when normal service will resume? Cheers!”

I remember when I was living in NYC and the subway AND busses went on strike.  Those people were like, “deal with it.”  And, you know what dealing with it meant?  Yep, extortion.  It was something like $10 per person per block from taxi drivers. And, it was snowing.  Yeah, and there was no stopping planned until demands were met.  Or, the head of the union was arrested, which is, in fact, what happened. (Sometimes you gotta love New Yorkers!)

In any event, I did not commute that week as I was busy studying – and babysitting!   Yes, friends, someone I know entrusted me with their precious cargo.  (Well, me and my childcare social worker friend with a masters’ degree.)    And, babysitting nowaways is cool.  No such thing as a $20 and the number for Dominos (which, you may recall I already had)…oh no!  When you babysit for a chef, you get homemade pizza with fresh basil and buffalo mozzarella.  And, made from scratch brownies.  And, two bottles of prosecco to wash it all down!  No complaints here. 

And, the beauty of being a 37 year old babysitter?  When the child does something that requires the experience and knowledge of an actual mom, I got a whole arsenal at my ready.  No more do I need to call MY mom and ask whether a hiccupping baby can lie on her back!  Nope, all my best girl friends are armed and at the ready even if I am not. (btw, thanks Libs!)

So, after an exciting week of babysitting and cycling (oops, I mean studying!) I did finally take the exam.  Which, was odd, as it was in the bar for the private boxes at Emirates Stadium (home to the Arsenal football club).  While, I am not sure if the clinking of the glasses will be of a benefit or hindrance to me, I did get some pics and will surely get some mileage out of those!)

And, a few days later, I decided to brave the cycling commute!  Decked out in my high-vis (that is code for fluorescent, I know I look like an a**hole, hopefully so much so that big trucks and busses will see me) vest, helmet and flashing lights I hit the road.  And the commute in was pretty good. Went to the gym, showered, locked up the bike, went to work.  Felt like a champ.  Until it was time for the ride home. 

And, it was raining.  And, rush hour.  And, getting dark.  So, I got a little flustered.  And, lost.  And, ended up on the Old Street Roundabout.   (for those non-British of you, a roundabout is a centrifuge-like death circle of speeding and honking cars, busses and giant trucks built to avoid intersections – why?  WHO knows.  But, in any event,  NOT where you want to be on a  bike.) So, I did the only sane thing and got off the bike and walked it round through the cross walks.  Crisis averted.

Until it really started to bucket down.   And, my glasses fogged up.  And, then I got a flat tire.

Which, as fate would have it, happened right near my favorite juicy, cold-climate pinot noir store. 

And, lucky me, I still have $40 in my account.