The Churning
22Jun/113

Eat Gay Poop

Ian from The Codes took this pic in Philly.

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13Jun/112

I flipped over my handlebars in Philly traffic

This happened while I was biking home from work on Friday. Center City Philly. Heading toward Broad St on Spruce. The sidewalks were crowded with people walking home from work or heading to happy hour bars, and there was a fair amount of traffic in the street.

There's a bike lane on the right side of the street, but I needed to make a left on Broad. So I waited for my opportunity, then merged over in between a couple cars to the left turn lane.

Now I'm on the left side of the one-way street, riding next to the driver's side of traffic. As I was nearing Broad in the turn lane, I was riding next to a grey Range Rover. Big vehicle. It's the kind of SUV they drove on the OC, except Seth Cohen would have driven less aggressively.

Preparing to make the left, the driver started easing over more and more to the left side of the street. I was getting crowded in between the car and the curb. The driver probably didn't notice me.

I panicked a little, afraid I was going to be run off the road, so I squeezed my brakes hoping to come to a complete stop. Instead, my front wheel turned a bit toward the curb and I lost control. I flipped over my handlebars going forward and landed on my knees and hands in the street between the curb and the car. My bike landed upside down on my back then flopped onto the street in front of me. I felt like an asshole. Bruised and embarrassed.

The Range Rover slammed on it's brakes. I slowly got up and picked up my bike. I could see that a young blond woman was driving. A guy got out of the passenger seat and ran over toward me. I assumed he was going to make sure I was okay and to help me get out of the street and onto the sidewalk. Instead, he raced over to the driver's side of the car and started looking for damage. The driver rolled down her window.

Guy: "You dented my car!"
Me: "What?"
Guy: "You dented my car, man! Right there! Take off those sunglasses and you'll be able to see it."
Me: "You've got to be kidding me."
Lady: (to me) "Are you okay?" (to the guy) "Get back in the car."
Guy: "You got bike insurance?" (He said this with a snide tone. I think it was supposed to be funny and insulting.)
Me: "I don't know what you mean by that."

The driver seemed to be the guy's wife. She immediately tried to diffuse the situation. I got the impression she wanted her husband to get back in the car so they could drive off and get their weekend started. I picked up my bike and laid it down on the sidewalk.

Guy: "He dented our car!"
Lady: "Are you sure?"
Me: "Listen, I was just trying to stop and get out of your way."

There was definitely a little ding on the driver door. There was no way to tell if it was from my bike or if it had been there for weeks. The lady got out to take a look. I was still in a daze. I didn't talk much. The guy and his wife had their own little conversation about whether or not there was a ding and whether or not it was caused by my bike. They also talked about filing an insurance claim. She reminded the guy that they had some kind of dent repair coverage through their warranty.

The guy was pretty amped up. Yelling and gesturing in a very animated way. He was a tubby little wealthy-looking guy in shorts and a bright orange polo shirt. His wife was fit and probably 10 years younger than him. She calmed him down and made him get back into the car.

She and I spoke for another few minutes. She wanted to make sure I wasn't hurt. I told her I didn't think I broke anything. She suggested we exchange info. I guess that's the sort of thing people do when there's a traffic accident. I didn't know how to react. So I just gave her my info and took her phone number. Then we all rode off.

The whole ordeal was probably 10 minutes. Super awkward and surreal. I was a little embarrassed that I fell off my bike in front of dozens of people. And I was in shock from the fall. Just dazed and bruised. I couldn't believe the guy's reaction to the whole thing. He was fuming.

During the couple of minutes when the couple were talking to each other and checking out their car, a young couple walked up to me on the sidewalk. The guy had sort of a hipster look. Tall guy, skinny jeans, flat-brimmed baseball cap. He looked at me directly in the eyes and said "You okay, man?" Maybe it was just because of that surreal daze I was in, but I picked up a tough-guy tone in his voice. Like he was implying "You need me to help you deal with this asshole?" "I'm okay, man. Thanks for asking though."

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21Feb/117

Parking drama in South Philly

I can't believe I haven't told you this story yet. It feels a little weird writing about it, because there's no real beginning or ending. It's just this permanently ongoing bullshit. You could sum it up as 25% frustration, 25% self-entitlement, 10% stupidity, and 40% race war.

I live in a Center City neighborhood where there are rowhomes on both sides all crammed together with no yards or patios or garages or driveways. The only parking available is parallel parking on one side of the street. So there are maybe 20 spots available for 30 houses.

The neighborhood itself is working class. Predominantly African American. And by predominantly I mean there are two white families living on this block, myself included. This little tidbit would really be no big deal if it weren't for the fact that me and my family feel ostracized at times. I'll explain.

Whenever a snowstorm rolls through Philly, people have to shovel out their cars if they need to drive somewhere. It's a huge pain in the ass. So after completing this awful task, people often "save" their parking spot by placing a parking cone or chair or garbage can there. In general, people honor this practice and leave those spots alone. Then after the snow melts away, most people take their parking cones inside and return to the daily hassle of fighting for a parking spot. But some of my neighbors choose toextend the parking cone bullshit.

One of the repeat offenders is this old fella with a handicapped sign hanging from his mirror. I know I know. He's fucking handicapped. But not that bad. He has a slight limp. He takes his garbage out every week. He washes his car on the street. He carries groceries into the house all by himself. All I want is a level playing field where we all follow the same set of rules. I even suggested to him that he try to get a permanent handicapped spot.

Last spring, this old fella kept trying to save his spot long after the snow was gone. I started taking his space from time to time, moving the parking cone to his front stoop. Then we carried on a war of handwritten notes. He'd leave them on my car and I'd leave them on his parking cone. We both basically had the same argument. Him: "You're being disrespectful. Leave my cone alone." Me: "You're being selfish. You can't dictate where I can and can't park."

While all of this was going on (weeks and weeks), some of my other neighbors started following the old guy's lead. With the already limited parking, and his "reserved" spot, it was becoming harder and harder to find a spot. So they started saving their own spots too. Pretty soon, there were four or five reserved spots on the street. Would it be too pompous of me to point out that I was right in battling with the old fella? I should have fought harder before it came to this.

One night I was about to head home from band practice when I got a text from my wife, Lindsey. She told me there was one open spot remaining on our block. And it was right in front of my house. Unfortunately there was an orange cone in the middle of the spot. As we exchanged texts, she told me she'd move the cone so I could park there, knowing I'd be home in just a few minutes.

I pulled up to our block and sure enough, the spot was still there. I pulled up next to the car in front of the spot and threw it in reverse. As this was happening, a big black SUV raced up behind me and skidded to a stop, blocking me from the spot. I waved my left arm out the window to let them know I was trying to back into the spot. I heard laughter coming from the car. So I leaned out the window to discuss the issue. I could see a very large black guy in the driver's seat, with maybe 4 or 5 teenage boys in the car.

Me: "Hey man, I'm trying to park here."
Big guy: "That's my spot. I had a cone there."
Me: "I didn't see a cone, dude. I'm just trying to park in front of my house."
Big guy: "You can't just go around stealing people's cones. That's my spot. I'm parking there."
Me: "You have got to be kidding me. Who do you think you are? What makes you think you can decide where I'm allowed to park?"
Big guy: "I've lived here for 10 years. This is my spot!"
Me: "You know what? You're a shitty fucking neighbor!"
Big guy: "Hahaha! Move along. Move along."

This went on for a couple of minutes. Neighbors started poking their heads out their doors and windows. And the guy's fat wife/girlfriend came outside. I gave up the fight. I put it in drive and raced off around the block. I parked maybe two blocks away. I had my bike in the back of the car, because I had picked it up earlier that day. I hopped on my bike and raced back to my front door. A couple of minutes had passed.

The big guy was across the street with all the kids and his lady standing around him. When I say he's big, I mean it. Probably 6' 2", 250. And I'm 5' 10", 150. He could murder me with a high five. As I stepped off my bike to go into my house with my tail between my legs, he yelled over "There goes Lance Armstrong!" I think he meant it as an insult.

I threw my bike down (which was stupid, I love that bike), and I yelled back across the street. "You're a piece of shit. You have no right to decide who on this block deserves a parking space!"

Big guy: "Oh, big man! Trying to act tough." *the teenagers howled laughing after each of his statements
Me: "You're a bad person. You have no respect for your neighbors."
Big guy: "Go inside, man."
Me: "You can't tell me what to do, man!"

Then Lindsey poked her head out the door. One of the teenage boys yelled across the street "Go back inside, white lady!"

Me: "Get control of your fucking kids! They have no right to speak to my wife."
Big guy's lady: "Leave my kids alone! And stop cursing in front of them!"

If I made one mistake in this whole interaction, it was the repeated "shits" and "fucks". I was pretty heated. And the weeks and weeks of parking-related stress was weighing on me. I should have kept my cool a little better. Me: "I didn't mean to curse. But you have to understand, what you're doing to us is rude and selfish."

Then the big guy came across the street. He walked up to me and very calmly said "Can we talk for a minute?" "Sure." We walked halfway down the block as we talked. He started with a handshake and told me his name is Mike. The conversation lasted a few minutes. Here's the gist:

Mike: "We're not trying to mess with you. It's just that everyone else is using cones to block spots."
Me: "Exactly. That's the problem. I never get to park on my own street anymore."
Mike: "Listen. I didn't realize it was causing such a problem. We'll stop blocking spots."
Me: "That's all I want. Thank you. And I'm sorry I kept cursing in front of your kids."
Mike: "It's nothing man. They use all those words on their own."

Then we wandered into actual chit chat. I mentioned I had just come home from band practice. He asked me if I liked to get baked. I tried to play it cool by saying "sure - sometimes". So he invited me inside his house to smoke up. I politely declined.

Since then, things between me and Mike have been okay. But his wife still gives me shit. They have two SUVs now. And they do their best to get a spot in front of their house, just like everyone else. Except when they have two spots next to each other. When that happens, they'll leave in one car, while pulling their second car up a little to block both spots with one vehicle. Then when they get home, they move it back to make room for the second car. We had a little war in this case too.

And here's a sad epilogue for you. Remember that old guy from the beginning of my story? Well there was a block party last summer. Everyone was out in the street with barbecue and music and beer. Not bad at all. I mean, we probably looked a little out of place, but everyone seemed to be having fun.

Still, Lindsey and I and decided to head out for a while, so we walked to the end of the block where our car was parked and started strapping our kid into her carseat.

The old fella had been sitting with a group of old guys, drinking all day. Two of those old dudes were walking toward the end of the block having a drunken, mumbled conversation. Right when they got to where we were, one of the dudes stopped, turned away from me, and started pissing on the sidewalk. It was realllly awkward. But I figured he was just drunk and maybe didn't even realize we were standing right there.

I rushed to close the car door and walked around toward the driver's side to hop in. Then I heard the pissing man yell to his friend (who was standing right there - the only reason he was yelling was so I could hear) "I don't care who moves in. This is OUR motherfuckin' neighborhood!" I drove off without confronting them.

Not every story has a happy ending.

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22Jul/105

The night the lights went out in Philadelphia

Here's a post I stole directly from my band's website: The Codes. I am a lazy piece of shit sometimes.

If you missed our last show at North Star Bar, you missed a good one. Shit got a little crazy. A few bands played before us including Penrose and A Million Years. They were incredible.

By the time we hit the stage it was already 1am. The crowd was good and drunk by then. Lots of hooting and hollering. Good energy in the room.

Halfway through the set, in the middle of one of our songs, the stage lights went black. We later found out that someone spilled a beer on the lighting board. They were OUT. No bringing them back. So we just kept playing. It was completely pitch black in there. The only lights were the sporadic flashes from cameras in the crowd. We played several more songs in complete darkness - including an encore.

Here's the song we were playing when the lights died - they go out at 4:00. Check it out.

The Codes
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8Jun/100

The Codes on YouTube

Here are a couple of videos of my band. I'm the guy playing drums.


The Codes - Won't Be The Same


The Codes - Get Away

If you're in Philly on Saturday July 10, you can check us out at North Star Bar. It's one of the best venues in Philadelphia and we're headlining! Get tickets here. Do it now! Well, you know, if you feel like it.

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