Full Moon Fiasco XI true-up

---Click the spoke card for pix---

We proved for the second time in a row the scientific theory that the best way to make the night of a bartender in an empty bar is to fill said bar with thirsty cyclists. Aside from Dilcia the bartender and the barback, Jarheads was empty.

Meet up was at Gannon's as per usual. We even were name checked by the Shelia owner on the chalk board out on the sidewalk. I intended to take a picture of this kickass gesture, but had a few beers and forgot. As for the theme, we did have about 6 zombies stagger in. Ironically, someone was killed in a hit and run accross the street from Gannon's a few days prior. Quite a shock to the regulars and the barstaff when bloody folks came walking in from the sidewalk.

Anyway, PJ lead a good route northwards. Winnemac park was a good pee break for all the morons who didn't go before we left, and we continued our northerly cranking till we got to Jarheads.

Now, Jarheads...what can I say? A small dive with cheap beer, pool table and a taco joint next door. What could be more perfect for the FBC? The posters of marine fighter planes on the ceiling even inspired mach 3 cycling. Carolyn and Aaron dropped a few quarters in the latin jukebox (songs chosen by virtue of cover-art) which in turn sparked some salsa dancing and butt groovin during games of pool.

The Red Line near the metra tracks was extra credit for us dumbshits who wanted to ensure hangovers. PJ was herded away from the door and towards home and all returned to normal until the next full moon.

Full Moon Fiasco XI true-up

---Click the spoke card to see Bernie's pix---

Gannon's lived up to it's new label as the home of the FBC once again. Everyone give a big round of applause to the bartenders. Yeah, they got me good and drunk.

As it turns out, one of the regulars at our destination, J&M Tavern, just happens to be the brother of the owner of Gannon's. Cool, eh?

At J&M the hijinks continued. Thanks to Nick, a Madison FBCer (I didn't know there was one there) we were introduced to the inebriated art of "elking". Come to the next ride for a demo of interested.

Well, in the interest of brevity, that's all. A picture says a thousand words, so:

Thanks to all for sticking around and singing the loudest, most obnoxious rendition of "Happy Birthday" for Darin.

Full Moon Fiasco IX true-up

---Click the spoke card on the left for some pix, or HERE for LeeRoy's pix, for still more click HERE for Bernie's pix---

The new meet up bar fits us like a well-greased suit. Thankfully the FBC attracts the kind of folks sharp enough to pick up on my tons of emails and other notices that the launch pad has changed location. Gannon’s is the place from here on out. The springboard to debauched thrill rides, the starting line for beer-soaked tomfoolery, the airplane door of the drunken leap of faith. Yeah, all that.

Anyway, we were under way late as usual and took a sweet ride twisting through the park, downtown under the el, across the Kedzie bridge for a cool view of downtown and pulled up to Richard’s Bar. What I expected to be a quiet dive bar was packed ass to forehead w/ so much drunk douchebaggery that I almost suggested making a move to yet another bar. BUT, as luck would have it, a room in the back was quickly vacated when all us dirty bikers filed in. Cheap beer abounded all around and the famed ASS SHOT took place before everyone dispersed.

Good to see so many familiar mugs, and great to meet all the newbs. Rider count was 44 or so, our largest yet. Nice work.

---Click the spoke card above for pix---OR---click HERE for Lee Roy's pix---

Beer and bicycling could be one of the best combos since beer and tacos or beer and pizza. Even since beer and more beer.

It was a crowded meet up at the Gingerman since the Decembrists were playing next door at the Metro. But, all 30 Fucking Bike Clubbers managed to gravitate to the window with beers in hand to get the Full Moon Fiasco cooking for the evening. Consider this an early warning: there may be a new meet up spot going forward.

Carolyn chost the destination and more or less led the route up the lakefront path and through Edgewater to Rogers Park. The ride was of a good distance…it was a good two-High Life ride. After an uneventful and super pleasant cruise, we arrived at Duke’s Hideaway.

Neil, the owner, surprised us all by offering garage space to all of us to park our rides for the night. Super Cool. A reception like this would be kickass every week. The beer was cheap and Ryan entertained us with some intoxicated musical stylings after the band finished up.

We snapped a good Full Moon shot (sans representation from the Ass Committee) and shortly after set out on our way South. This month’s extra curriculars included PJ and I drunk-sprinting on a kiddie track and some intoxicated playground tomfoolery. That is, until the Five-O chased us off with a flurry of expletives.

All in all a great ride. Lots of new faces, always great to see. We even had Laura, a St. Louis FBC veteran join our ranks. Now, don't for a moment think I'm playing loose and fancy with my approval stamp, but this one deserves one:

PS, anyone want to wager how many more months I can post a shot of 20+ asses on Chainlink before Leah or Howard give me a call to tell me to knock it off?

Full Moon Fiasco VII true-up

---Click the spoke card to see the pix---

Crankus, god of bicycling and all that is groovy, granted the Full Moon Fiasco pleasing weather conditions for the very first time. It’s also the first time since I’ve known him that Pierogi John has been gainfully employed. So, we toasted his good fortune at the Gingerman. Good Crankus was smiling upon us and our ales.

I was pleased to see so many new faces. There were at least 12 first timers (probably more) but Scott, Jessica, Brad, Maggie, Lauren (remarkably has never ridden a Fiasco) and Melissa were the only newbs that dared ride with us. They rock. The others ducked out with excuses of varying degrees of lameness. There was also one dude with an injury, so he was literally lame, therefore exempt from my finger wagging.

But, we were underway after downing our suds and bombed down Clark Street amidst the Cubs Game hustle. After a brief and fruitless attempt to extract The Hazard from Performance Bikes and give Lauren a quick air up, we continued South by Southwest cheesegratering across the Chicago River on Webster with a sweet view of the skyline. We annoyed a few hipsters in Wicker Park and finally cruised into Phyllis’ Musical Inn.

Lee Roy and I promptly kicked some ass in a game of HORSE in the beer garden with a ball with less air than…well…a thing that doesn’t have very much air in it. OR: …with a ball flatter than…one of those really flat things. OR: with a ball more limp and leathery than…

After drinking Phyllis’ dry of High Life, the Ass Committee co-Captain, Marcus arrived. We promptly snapped a good full moon photo of the remaining asses and headed off for Schubas to finish off any lingering effects of sober brain cells. All in all, this one gets a stamp of approval:



Credits:

Spoke Card design………………………………Garth
Point man for ride……………………...……….Darin
Ass Captain………………………...……..………Marcus
Full Moon over Division Photographer…Melissa
Token Tall Guy…….………………………....…Lee Roy
Fancy bike……………………………...…..……..Ed
Jackass……………………………………….….....PJ

Most Surly...................................Maggie

Full Moon Fiasco VI true-up

---click the spoke card on the left for pix---

Six Fiascos, and not a single one in fair weather. The law of averages insists that number seven will be sublime. Despite the cold and impending rain, we numbered about a dozen, including newbs Tim, Lee and PJ’s sister Lisa.

The route was sweet: Clark Street, Lakefront, the North Ave Beach Ped Bridge. There was a quick stop for some illicit activity in the Park, then we hit the Underground Wonderbar ready to drink. Lisa hooked us up with a massively discounted cover and we settled in for some Red Stripes and Reggae music.

The Pink Sash of Shame debuted with a half-assed awarding to John. The main reason he ended up the first recipient was because he walked by PJ and I when we were talking about the idea a few weeks prior. Several variations on how to rock the Sash were demonstrated, most disturbingly by Marcus. The true purpose will be to adorn the rider that leaves a ride early for what is deemed "wussy" reasons.

Speaking of Marcus, he has volunteered to co-captain the ass committee. Two ass captains are better than one in my estimation. Marcus quickly fulfilled his duties by organizing the Full Moon over Walton Ave.

Full Moon Fiasco V true-up

Our safety record stays clean (barely), there were tons of new faces, a committee is formed and as a result the FBC gets some ass (again).

Seconds after hanging up my phone, hearing that he was only a few blocks away and about to join up with us, The Hazard called back to let me know he’d just been hit by a car. The look on the driver’s face was one of shock when 20 bicyclists flew into the parking lot two minutes later to check on him. Thankfully Martin escaped the event with some soreness and a wobbly front wheel and the Fiasco was on.

There were too many new faces Saturday for me to name check them all but I do want to shout a big WELCOME TO CHICAGO and slap on the back to Andrew and his fancy black track rig. Good to see so many people Saturday.

The plan for this Fiasco was to celebrate spring under the full moon by hitting one of the best beer gardens in town at Moody’s Pub. A Springtime Arctic Blast common in Chicago thwarted this and kept us on the medieval interior of the joint. The factor I did not foresee was the restraint-setup of the place which lamely kept us all sitting at one long table—making it hard to drift about.

Last, certainly not least, the Ass Committee was formed Saturday night to organize the ever-elusive ass photo. The Ass Committee is really comprised of one person, so Ammo is more along the lines of our very first Ass Captain. An honor for sure. After a couple of assless months, a number of brave and prideless FBCers lined up at about midnight to moon the moon. A glorious thing.