I got a bicycle this weekend! It has only broken once since. I now have sunburned arms and an aching crotch. Hey, I tell it like it is. I am the only dork in Paris who wears a bike helmet, but considering I was nearly run over by a bus on the quai, trampled by a clone army of Vespas at Place de la Republique, and close-lined by an old lady at Bastille, I will sacrifice my free-flowing locks and pride for the helmet. The weekend rides from the store to my house and to Breakfast in America for pancakes on Sunday morning were excellent, complete with bike path through the outdoor sculpture garden near the Jardin des Plantes. Even getting to work today was quite pleasant. But in the 90-degree humidity trapped behind a bus and a motorcycle, seeing the sweat drip down my grayed skin, I began to wonder if the metro is so bad. At least on the metro you aren't breathing in carcinogenic and birth-defect causing agents for a half hour straight. It seriously pisses me off that the economy of the world and all the bullshit politics of my homeland come down to something that causes such unpleasant urban biking.

Bonus points to those who can identify the origin of the title of this post.