Saturday, August 15, 2009


in normal speak, 'roadies' are very efficient, often silent/softspoken, superhumanly strong, virtually invisible instruments of the arts/entertainment industry. they hoist 300 lb. amplifiers without exertion. they arrive early and stay late. they have long hair and weird nicknames. they all wear all black. 

in my speak, 'roadies' are a bunch of jerks. kind of like runners, triathletes, and other sport-based geeks/dorks, 'roadie' is a category into which i will never fit (like 'hipster' or 'hottie' or 'hotelier'). this may be because my decade-old helmet is too big, or my on-sale bib shorts aren't squeezing my fat hard enough. or, this may be because i refuse to surrender my humanity and sense of community as soon as i put on a funny outfit and swing a leg over some skinny tires. i retain my manners, and i am genuinely happy to see other people out there doing something similar to enjoy the day/time/life/weather/ability to breathe or move. 

roadies don't say hi. roadies don't give the recognized nod of camaraderie. roadies don't wait patiently for the rollerbladers. roadies don't ask if a roadside stopper needs any tools or water. roadies don't complement other riders on their bikes/fitness/kit unless it's in the interest of sarcasm. roadies assume every ride is a race, every racer, an opponent (no, not just a benign fellow competitor, but one to be opposed). roadies yell 'on your LEFT!' to people who don't speak english, are spatially challenged, and probably dyslexic, and they do this at the last possible second. 

roadies are as bad as hipsters and fixies and WASPS and whiners and everyone who self-righteously exhibits snobbery toward like beings with like aspirations whom may be perceived to be somewhat less worthy, somehow. i shave my legs, wear a helmet with no visor, and ride a bike that, when new, would cost more than many people's cars (thank goodness for ebay and craigslist). yay, i look like a fancy schmancy roadie. but wait, i wear full-fingered gloves, hop speed bumps that don't appeal to me, prefer wool to lycra, and, oh yeah, i say 'hi' and 'goodmorning' to other people on two wheels. (no, there is no saying hi to rollerbladers, though i do wait patiently for their lane-wide strides to taper enough for my own safe passage.) as can be noted by all posts thus far, my favorite form of snobbery is self-deprecation and the assumption of the humble role, while hosting a much loftier view if only in my own mind. since no one other than the one friend i told about this blog will ever read this, this is essentially my own mind. and i am no roadie, but i feel like i'm better than they anyway, because i still have the decency to share a greeting as we pass.

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