Compared to yesterday this should be a relatively easy day of travel. My last connection is at 8:27 pm if the train is on time. The last ferry to the islands is at 9:00pm about 25 miles away. With a little luck my ride will get me there. Sitting in the station Chika is getting lots of attention, too much attention when the security guard asks me if I'm traveling with them today. " Sorry, your tires are too big to fit in our racks." I'm screwed!
Perched on a corner with a latte and a ciggi I watch the early morning hustle and bustle of the city, it's loud really loud, beggars and homeless everywhere. I lock myself into my filthy hotel room strip down and plop in bed. I have one hour to shower and hit the city. It was idiotic selling my brompton and I've been reminded every second of this trip. Travel was so easy with that bike. I could have just pedaled the hwy all the way to Cabo but no. If I could turn the clocks back that's just what I would do. Now 2k poorer and no where close to home I'm having serious sellers remorse. The Brompton was a Swiss Army knife, made for banging through the city and easy travel. The Katate Monkey is more like a chainsaw.
Navigating the city streets on my folder was easy, that's what she was designed for. The bars on the new steed are nearly three times as wide and almost take a full lane of traffic. I'm approached everywhere for handouts, sleeping people line the streets, fights ambulances and trouble everywhere I go, get me out of here. My family is scared to death of me riding through Mexico? A place where I was practically raised. Here it's ten times more frightening and the people are literally insane, the crazy ones and the ones who live here by choice. I'm sent to the baggage department waiting to hear that I be pedaling back to the islands, I'm going to get fired, lose my cabin and become desperate like all these lost souls. We measure and remeasure. If I deflate the tires completely it will fit but I've forgotten my pump. I load it on the train.
Sprinting though the train station like OJ in his old hertz rental car commercials I skid to a stop after clearing a pile of suitcases. A pretty girl with her bike helmet trumps all emergencys as I stop for a bit of small talk before resuming my frantic search for a pump. I literally throw my body in front of a taxi. I get the only cabbie in Portland that has no idea how to navigate the city or her iPhone. I whip mine out and we're on our way. I don't pay her fearing she'll leave me and launch into REI at rush hour. Find a pump and a line with 20 people in front of me. One by one my pleads to cut are granted and I'm back at the station. I left the islands with a pile of cash but now don't have enough to buy an appetizer for a flea.
I find a corner stall in the filthy bathroom to hide from the city. I wipe the piss off the seat and now I'm playing chicken with the automatic flush. Every time I try and sit it flushes sucking the paper thin ass gasket with it and covering the seat with toilet spray. It takes me ten times to beat it and I'm rewarded with a wet ass. I pull my iPhone and start pecking away to share my journey with you…