THE COMMUTE: CHRISTMAS
A 24-inch potted and ornamented evergreen, hung on one bicycle handlebar, significantly increases drag on a blustery day.
When the boss came into my office with a bottle of Muscadet, my thanks was genuine but not unqualified. I looked forward to sipping French wine over the holidays, but hefted the bottle thoughtfully with a glance at my backpack.
It was the afternoon of Christmas Eve, and we were getting ready to close until Monday. There was a sense of festivity, even as we updated reports, made important calls, and prepared new files. I was thinking of pomegranates, orange-glazed peas and chocolate cake.
I was walking out the boss’s wife, taking notes on last-minute tasks, including watering the plants that brighten our hallway. She asked whether I’d like to take home one of the two potted evergreens sent us by a law office.
It would be a beautiful centerpiece for Christmas Eve dinner; there could be no hesitation.
‘Sure, I’ll take it!’ I said. ‘Thank you.’
Well, now it seemed silly to sigh over a bottle of wine if I was going to voluntarily take on a Christmas tree complete with silver glitter, ornaments, and a red star.
To-do list completed, desk tidied, I let my mother know I was on my way home, and would be bringing some Christmas extras. ‘I will be a festive sight to behold,’ I joked.
Since I’d locked my bike in the office overnight, first I had to take it down with me, two flights of stairs.
Yes, there is an elevator.
Elevators are for sissies.
After I’d recovered my breath, sheepishly picked the star from the ground, and checked to see whether anyone had witnessed my unexpectedly hasty descent {coast clear!}, I paused to consider traveling arrangements.
I had zipped the tree into my backpack {same as the pink begonias}, but could see the zippers would not hold against the extra weight. And there was no way I was going to stop in the middle of an intersection to gather up dirt and foliage.
So into a yellow Sedano’s shopping bag went the pot, and I hung it from the left handlebar. I was ready to go.
A few things quickly became apparent. 1) My muscles were still sore from the day before. 2) A Christmas tree pretty much negates a bicycle’s streamlined design. 3) It was one of the windiest days I’d ever had to bike.
A few times the pot knocked against the front spokes and produced an alarming buzzing; the ornaments rattled dangerously; pine needles pricked my legs. Too nervous to shift my weight, I was bumped mercilessly over tree roots. The only thing that didn’t budge was the backpack, anchored down with that bottle of Muscadet.
I smiled at a staring passerby and settled in for a long, hard ride.
Just pedal. Did I lose an ornament? Just pedal. I don’t think I have enough breath to say Merry Christmas, so I’ll just ignore this jogger. Just five more miles. Eventually I’ll be home. Pedal. Then I’ll wash my hair. And make a fancy dinner. Just four more miles. Why is it always a headwind? Just three more miles. How much does 750 mL of wine weigh? Just two more miles.
After making the school crossing with a jogger who studiously ignored the Christmas tree bobbing beside him, I braked at the next intersection just as the light changed. A quick hop, and I was on my way again.
The car beside me, however, almost missed his light. He was busy trying to get a good picture of me on his phone, and was honked at viciously.
I arrived home breathless but triumphant. I plopped the Christmas tree on the dining table, and my sister greeted the sight with gratifying surprise.
And the Muscadet was delicious with holiday leftovers.
• the infamous evergreen •
December 26, 2014