Full Moon Fiasco XVII true-up

---click HERE to see some pix---

Fire, Malort, The Pink Sash, instant karma and a nearly thwarted full moon over Clark Street photo: makings of a good spring ride.

The initial challenge of this ride was to try to incorporate the cooler-than-shit FIRE JAM, which takes place at Foster Beach every full moon. Laura took the reins in organizing a pre ride out there and brought with her 2 outrageously cool FBC flags. These flags then rode out the rest of the night like huge tail fins on her bike.

While Laura and company were watching fire twirlers, blowers, spinners, we sat on our asses at Gannon’s Pub enjoying some of the city’s finest brews. Once the fire jammers arrived, we wrapped things up and headed on a circuitous route to Andersonville led by PJ and Michael. A perfect night for a ride.

Not long after arriving at Simon’s (which is an excellent joint with a copious beer selection), the Pink Sash of Shame came out of hibernation and was awarded to Darin. I think the story months ago was that he was going to miss a ride because his (now ex) girlfriend’s cousin had a birthday dinner party the same night. This is exactly the sort of activity which merits the Pink Sash.Excellent.

Lo and behold, Malort made another appearance to some Malort virgins. Surprisingly to some, it was enjoyed. Personally, I wasn’t surprised. It’s the sort of experience you’re not going to forget.It may turn your face inside-out for a brief moment, but it is enjoyable nonetheless.

An attempt at thwarting the now-institutional FULL MOON PHOTO ultimately failed. We headed out to the street and set up directly in front of the bar. Not a moment after an array of bare asses aimed at the camera like a firing range, the door guy came outside. This ass-hat actually attempted to hide 25 bare butts with outstretched hands. The bartender even got involved, but after we were already on our way inside. This of course set in motion a discussion on guerrilla-style FULL MOON PHOTOGRAPHY in the future. At any rate, here you go. Full Moon over Clark:

Last, but certainly not least, instant karma struck a rider in the form of pavement to the face on the way home. You know who you are. A rider, to remain nameless for the time being, thought it a good idea to knock down construction pylons while weaving between them. When reaching the end of his obstacle course of gleeful destruction, his attention diverted just long enough for his front wheel to twist and he made a pitch to the pavement. More or less unscathed but with bent handlebars, Sir Unnamed Rider made his way home. Congratulations.

AND, for a late addition. Roger has become our second unofficial (only since nothing is really official with the FBC) cinematographer. Check out this vid:

Full Moon Fiasco XVI true-up

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

After a short furlough, the blog is back on two wheels cruising the streets of the internet, sipping a PBR.

Scads of folks showed up at Gannon's considering the cold. All told, we had about 24 which would likely be about twice the number last year. Summer rides top out at over 50, so this was a great showing. Go FBC, kick some ass!

Anyway, had a bunch of new faces and a bunch of old faces were missed. We passed a quick time at Gannon's then took off south with Marcus (returning to his role as ass-captain), PJ and someone else...I forget who...leading a cool route down Elston. For part of the ride it seemed as though we had the city to ourselves. Not much milling about going on south of Fullerton on Elston for certain. Note to self and others: a good stretch of street for some organized sprints.

We made a quick stop at the Hideout for a refueling stop but found it closed. While there, we found a dude packing up from a photo shoot on the street. Apparently this guy takes photos of himself all over the place while wearing a bubble suit. Had we shown up a half hour earlier, his latest opus would've featured THE FUCKING BIKE CLUB. That would've been sure to seal his fame in the bubble suit photography circle.

Locking up outside the Matchbox, I couldn't help but do a rough estimation of the amount of space we took up outside the bar and whether or not we'd fit into the smallest bar in Chicago. Elbow to jowl, we crammed into the joint. PBRs and the Matchbox's famed margaritas poured across the hardwood. The regulars were soberly determined to hold what bar real estate they had. One guy made me think of the indignation of Walter Sobchek in The Big Lebowski: "I'm finishing my fucking coffee."

One last word about those margaritas: they make you see through time.

Self-appointed co-ass captain Marcus gathered everyone still there late on the median of Ogden Ave for a good photo. There's no bubble suit, but I'm not sure if that one butt is waving a white flag or holding a note. I'm thinking it was something involving a faulty wiping technique. At any rate, hold your breath for the Full Moon Over Ogden Ave:

Full Moon Fiasco XIII true-up

---click the spoke card for some pix---

Happy new year everyone! And Happy Birthday to FBC Chicago!

ALSO, check out the great year-in-review video Aaron Bussey put together. The last few minutes are super sweet. Thanks Bussey!

Full Moon Fiasco XII true-up

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

“The thing I hate about this bell is that it doesn’t work in the fucking rain.” -Martin Hazard.
Yes, it rained. It rained a cold, cold rain. It also started in earnest before we started, once we were snug in Gannon’s nursing brews and looking out on our glistening bikes. The original plan was to take a circuitous route that would’ve afforded great views of the moon. This was 86’d in favor of a direct route down Lincoln and Wellington to the Parrot Bar. Go directly to the Parrot Bar, do not pass Go.

Despite the weather we had a lively ride and made our way down the ramp to the bar before anyone was thoroughly soaked. A fresh batch of popcorn started popping, bills slid into the jukebox and all was well with the world despite a short ride. We also had a good number of folks come out to enjoy a good wet winter ride. 20 or so including a few newbs. I got to meet Doobie, the dude best known for taking photos of people in the “viva la bike” (or whatever) pose. I’d post a link, but can’t find his site. Vince also logged his first fiasco on a recumbent sporting a bowler. Nice.

Shortly after the shot of Malort my recollections become a bit distorted. Thanks, Matt B. What I do know is that Sol, Darin and I were the remaining FBCers closing down the Parrot Bar. So we did what any good dumbass does on a school night, go to a late night bar.

In other news: If this doesn’t perk up your fleece cap and toe booties, I don’t know what will: the next Full Moon Fiasco falls on NEW YEAR’S EVE. Yes, you read that correctly. Start time will be an hour earlier, meet up at 7, ride at 8. Other details are not yet chiseled on the tablet.

In still other news, the host of the FBC pictures, www.thechainlink.org, has now censored the ass shot from that website. Now that the site has so many members, the admins have decided to run a nice clean ship with no full moons on it. So going forward, for all your ass needs refer to this site.

FULL MOON OVER WELLINGTON:

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.