Get a Freaking Bike

So I'm sitting around my house, incredibly caffeinated, and I've got nowhere to go. Oh, I could go to work, but I'm not feeling the burning desire to walk a coupla hours downtown. Wildcat Strikes. Reminds me of India. We were taking the group to our debriefing session in Darjiling and as we wake up from the overnight journey, hear some buzz on the train that the entire state of West Bengal was on transit strike. Brilliant. Especially since we're still in WB, and have a four-hour jeep ride up the mountain to go, with no accomodations available for miles around. Eventually we convince a band of renegade cycle rickshaw drivers to take us to a hotel that had agreed to house us for the evening - a mere 6km away. Keep in mind that everyone on the trip had their 60L travel packs with them. Each cyclist pulled two people and their bags (at least 350lbs dead weight) across cobbled back streets, uphill to our final destination. They sure earned their wage that day. Okay. So. It's like that but different. Because unlike our trip in India, I am not stuck in a random train station, and there is also a disturbing lack of cycle rickshaw drivers about. I am stuck in my house, at my computer, in front of the TV, wondering if I'll make it into work today. Moral of the story: Get a freaking assbike. Sidenote: Becoming a sexy bitch - the Unoriginal Gangster tells it like it is.