Not that sweaty

I rode Clyde to the theater last night to see "Ragtime" (which was very moving with a stellar performance by Gavin Gregory as Coalhouse Walker), and when I found my sisters in the crowded lobby, they said, "I thought you were gonna ride your bike."

"I did."

"Really? Wow, it doesn't look like you did."

By which they meant that I wasn't all sweaty, I was (very slightly) "dressed up," and my hair wasn't matted to my head. Here is my big secret: I rode kind of slowly.

I found the last bike parking space in the theater block. I was able to stash my helmet in my sister's office, but I bet most places would check a bike helmet same as a bag. When I came out, I saw that someone had rifled through my small tool bag, but hadn't taken anything.

Riding home at near 11:00 on Halloween night through the very clubby lower Pearl District was kind of fun--the place was hopping and I saw a great many "sailors" and "fairies" and "prostitutes" though for all I know that last category wasn't particularly in costume.

So, another bicycling challenge met and mastered: cycling to things people don't usually ride a bike to.