How you know you are living your best life: when you get a text on a Saturday afternoon that just says, “We’ve got the trebuchet going on the midway by the rink if you’re interested…”
(Note: this, unfortunately, is not the actual picture of their trebuchet)
The only thing better than seeing a siege engine in action was what I saw on the way home Friday night:
I was walking down Michigan Ave., just about to go underground to the train. Right as the light turned green, some show-off, meathead, a-hole on a motorcycle gunned it so everybody would look at him and his sweet bike. Not merely content with everybody in a three block radius shaking our heads and going, “what a show-off, meathead, a-hole on a motorcycle”, he had to go one further and pop a wheelie.
Well, he had our attention.
Except his wheelie kept going, and he flipped over backwards, landing in the middle of the street. The bike traveled for a bit before wiping out and laying down sideways, leaving a trail of pieces scattering it its wake. The guy somehow wasn’t dead, but instead sprung to his feet and ran down the street after his bike.
It was the most perfect, glorious episode of schadenfreude I have ever witnessed. This guy was so clearly an idiot, and got what was coming to him in such a perfect and public way…
Universe, I don’t know what I did to deserve witnessing it, but thank you. Thank you.
This story lured me in with promises of trebuchet tales but ended up being about a-hole motorcyclists. B-
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And here I was thinking, “I hope people read past the trebuchet stuff and get to the really good story about the a-hole motorcyclist!”
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