This is the best: leaving the Oregon Symphony late last night, everyone pouring from the warmth of the concert hall to the wet and cold of outside. My bike and my concert-date’s bike are a block away from each other, because there are many, many other bicycles parked near the Schnitz. They fill the available staple racks and sign posts, spilling over to adjacent blocks and nearby street corners.
Some people get in cars or board buses or walk away, but many others find their way to their wet bicycles and, onion-like, cover up their concert finery with layers of waterproof jacket, gloves, beanie, helmet.
The two of us unlock our separate bikes and ride away in our skirts and rain jackets and booties singing snatches of Carmina Burana, and I’m so, so happy to live in a place where I can leave work on my bicycle, stop to see the symphony, and be only a small part of a whole other contingent who have also shown up to the symphony on their bikes, in their fancy clothes.
We ride together across the river until our paths diverge and I sprint the rest of the way home by myself, skirt swirling around me, breathing hard, full of symphonic passion and overflowing with love for this, my city, my lovely, bikeable, culture-ful, friendly city. So, so lucky.