WORST VALENTINE'S DAY EVAH!

No really.

Ah hadn’t been to yoga since Saturday. Tha Bikram folx recommend 3x a week, or more, n ah really try ta keep ta that. Howevah this Monday, ah just needed a day off, n then was busy w. band practices in conference calls on Tues n Wed. While thar was a MASSIVE PILLOW FIGHT happenin literally across tha street from whar ahm werkin rite now at 6 pm, ah forced myself home on tha BART fer a 6:30 class. Ah was fallin asleep on said BART, yet remembered that it’s important fer me ta take care of my body, n that bikram yoga makes me feel really good, n biked a couple miles to tha hawt sweaty room, instead of up tha hill to my warm cozy bed.

My class was pretty okay, n ah had a feelin of unsettlement about me. About two blocks from my closest BART, ah see a kid in his late teens standing on one side of tha path. Gettin closah, ah see anutha one step out from behind a BART support beam, n ah slow down ta swerve away from him. Upon gittin closah, ah realize thars a THIRD one behind tha support beam, n that these kids want what ahve gawt.

As my momentum on tha bike had slowed down, it was too late ta dart off in anutah direction. Ah gawt off my bike so that ah wouldn’t be knocked off, n instead of wailing on my asailants, tried to stop them from hitting me, which didn’t work. Ah remembah a crash in tha face, relatively weak, n felt my lip git busted n tasted tha blood. While ah can’t imagine that my eyes were actually closed, pretty much everythang since then is remembered as blackness (perhaps ah did close them at some point in time).

Ah was wrestled down to tha ground by one of them, who did somethang ta my bicep n focused all his energy on holding me down. Ah was prolly told somethang along tha lines of “yer nawt gaein anywhar,” n felt fists and feet on my chest and head. Ah think ah still had my backpack on, n my helmet was startin ta strangle me, so ah focused everythang on gittin it off first (altho this left my head unprotected from some hits). Someone grabbed my phone out of my pocket (ah was leaning against tha pocket whar my wallet was) n they kept askin if ah gave up. Ah did, nawt knowin how long this could continue er how far away help could’ve been. One of em picked up my bike, n they ran down tha path n around tha cornah. Ah tried to compose myself, n ran aftah them, tryin ta flag down passin cars (at 8:30 pm), but ah couldn’t see them by tha time ah gawt around tha cornah. Fortunetly, they’d been waitin just two blocks from tha BART, n ah knew thar would be cops thar. We took a ride in tha direction theyd been headin, n a call was put in that my bike had been found, nae sign of suspects.

Tha Dyna Mo was found literally at tha same post where they’d been waiting, my burts bees lip stuff on tha ground. Tha cops couldn’t find anyone, so ah gave them my info, n shakily, biked home.

Tha sheer immaturity of it is what kinda gits me. These kids could NAWT fight, they were weak, n a bit scared. Howevah, thar numbahs were more then ah could possibly handle, n they had surprise on thar side. My guess is they returned tha bike when they saw it had a National Bike Registry stickah on it, n that it could be traced. Of kerse, my phone ken prolly be traced as well, but ah haven’t followed up on that yet (ahve spent tha last two hours on tha phone w. internet people cuz our modem is wonky apparently).

Honestly, ahm fine, n totally grateful ah still have my bike. Without that, ahm nawt sure how ahd be coping. Ahm sore as hell, fer sure, n its totally surreal, n ahll prolly be stickin to tha main roads from now on, but ahm really fine, just down a phone. Which ah insured, n pay a small fee so that ah don’t lose numbahs, n have suspended service on, so except for tha MASSIVE inconvenience of nawt havin telephone, isn’t so bad. Gittin a replacement could take a lil while, as my insurance is through tha National Cellular Owners Association, (ahd nevah heard of them eitha, but bought my phone cheap through an outside vendor) n they have bad bizness hours fer a group that offers insurance, but ah should have a new phone relatively soon.

My landlady’s friend told me “that means you’ve arrived,” which is prety much what ah thought when ah was walkin from tha scene of tha crime to tha police. N it does seem like my gittin robbed stories have a similar thread:While it sucks, and sometimes it costs me a lawt of money, tha thangs ah REALLY want are left behind (usually bass guitars, in this case my bike). N if thas tha way tha universe wants ta punish me from time ta time, ah guess ah can’t complain.

Anyway friends, be safe. N don’t call me, cuz ah won’t answah.