On every warm-weather month for the better part of three years, Co-Worker Kevin has requested my presence at a haphazardly-structured bike event known as Critical Mass. And on every warm-weather month for the better part of three years, I have gleefully denied his request—until recently.
At ten minutes before six o'clock on the evening of September 24th, Brother Bryan, Hello My Name Is Jake, Co-Worker Kevin, his ex-fiancé and I gathered in Daley Plaza for the start of Critical Mass. After nearly fifteen minutes of pee-dripping anticipation, without warning, people started to move, at first in lazy loops around the plaza, then through the streets of downtown Chicago.
So we followed.
For more than two hours, hundreds of Windy City bicycle buffs wound and weaved through busy Chicago streets, halting traffic in their wake. Some offered a jolly "Happy Friday" to folks on front porches, while others silently drifted along in the current of rubber and steel.
Although I was heavily occupied with the arduous task of not shattering my face on the pavement, Co-Worker Kevin managed to snap a few candid shots of my maiden Critical Mass voyage, which I've shared below.