It seemed a good idea at the time. The pub was so far away! I would have had to walk it on my own, as everyone else lives on the other side, or a lot nearer... that'd take ages, and would be extremely uninteresting. How can I get there quicker?
Ah, the trusty bike. My steed of speed for nipping to campus, or town; much faster than walking, but small and innocuous enough to be able to take the shortcuts. Perfect.
I get to the pub earlier, not quite so frozen, having had a good bit of exercise to justify my pub visit in the first place. I'm feeling rather smug, knowing that these other poor schmucks are going to have to trek home, whereas I will be in my toasty warm house mere minutes after closing time.
Drinks come, and drinks go. Hours come, and hours go. Then it's time; my plan will come to fruition as I speed home.
It clicked as I fumbled for the keyhole on the bike lock. It never used to be this small, the key went straight in last time. Weird. Nonetheless, it took a bit longer, but it worked.
Riding. Also weird... different. I never used to be this... nimble. The bike used to be heavier. Look! I can throw it around like a pro! I can go faster! Whooooosh! I used to use the brakes going down this hill before! Look at me now!
In that ten minute period, I was a pro. Had there been any people around they would have applauded my skill, as I cornered faster, tighter, closer to the solid walls than ever before. Some kind of magic had made me become one with the bike. I weaved skillfully around a lamppost, headed gracefully over the narrow bridge, and darted through the gate. The darkness accentuated the speed, as I flew from streetlight to streetlight. I remember wishing campus was bigger as I neared home, so I could appreciate the speed for longer.
If only that foot-high wall hadn't been there.
PLEASE NOTE: I do not condone drunken cycling! Please don't go kill yourself. An arbitrary amount of artistic license was used in the creation of this writeup... this was returning across a deserted, road-less university campus along cycle paths; you wouldn't catch me anywhere near a proper road when tipsy. The wall did hurt, though.