Bacon and Celery Ride

It’s too bad we can’t turn the clocks back an hour every morning—or at least every Sunday morning—because, if we could, we’d all be more likely to meet up before 8:00 in the morning, have our coffee and donuts, and then ride bikes to a public park where we could cook bacon—real and imaginary—and drink Bloody Marys, thereby getting in our minimum daily requirement of alcohol, grease, and celery in one fell swoop before Sunday Mass even starts.

No doubt I could have found something more productive to do with my extra hour, and probably something, all things considered, better for my long-term health, but I sure liked being able “fall back” into a serving of the classic spicy eye-opener which nicely took the edge off of the minor hangover I was nursing after attending a post-Halloween costume party into what would have been the wee hours of the morning had we not gotten that free one in the middle of the night last night.

I was impressed to see how many of the usual suspects showed up at such and early hour with little more than the promise of pork products and tomato juice cocktails as incentive. And while there was a modicum of snarling and groaning, especially before folks had their caffeine and in some cases, nicotine, too, once we had pedaled across the I-90 bridge to unload and spread out at Waffle Park on Mercer Island, and as soon the libations began flowing and the fat began bubbling, even the snarliest and groniest among us were giddy with that particularly satisfying brand of sanctimoniousness that comes with getting up and out of bed at an early hour.

Perhaps my favorite part of the proceedings was looking at my watch as I finished my drink and noting that it was only 9:45; at that point, it was time for me to go; if I'm tipsy before 10:00 on Sunday, I'm ambitious; after 10:00, I'm debauched.