"Ticket for one please"

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Ask yourself this – would you go to the cinema alone?

I faced this ‘first world problem’ recently. I’d decided I wanted to see this film, but didn’t have anyone to go with. Toying with the idea of going alone and unsure if it was still a faux pas, I broached the subject with friends. Their response was clear – I had lost the plot. Even my own mother shunned me. In their eyes going to the cinema alone on any night of the week, especially a Saturday, was a social norm violation. To heck with them I thought, YOLO right?

I still can’t understand why it’s such a big taboo, so I did what all normal people do when in the midst of a personal crisis – I ‘googled’ it. And as I found in a very interesting forum, you aren’t there to socialise or to have conversations with the person next to you. You’re there to simply watch the film. And last time I checked you didn’t need another person there for that, unless of course you’re visually impaired – which I’m not. Sure, when the film finishes you can compare notes and quote funny lines (in this instance the film was in French so that would have been difficult, but not impossible), but if I was feeling the need to talk about it I could just call someone and chew their ear off about how great it was.  

As the afternoon wore on I started to feel slightly exhilarated at the thought of going alone and in my eyes ‘championing social change’ (sounding slightly deluded as I look back now). I remembered I had gone to the cinema alone once before. I was 12, a touch overweight due to a love affair with Chicken Treat and not at the height of my popularity. Two girls from my grade happened to be there and sat behind me. They still tease me about it today. The movie was called Serendipity and I can see now why no one wanted to part with $10 and lose 90 minutes of his or her day watching it. Regardless, I thought to myself if a 12 year old can confidently go to the movies alone, my 22 year-old self could do the same.

Except I didn’t. While wrapping up some premiums I had lobbed some peanut butter in (I refuse to pay the astronomical prices at the candy bar) I received a phone call from a friend who decided at the 11^th hour that he liked the look of the trailer and would just download it. It turned out to be the best film I had seen all year, and this was the general consensus amongst the other three people whom I watched it with. I can’t help but wonder if I would have enjoyed it as much had I gone alone though.

I went to a music festival this year by myself and I will admit it was a strange. If I ran in to anyone I planned on telling them I had lost the people I had gone with… lost them at the gate.

I guess I’ll just have to wait for the Serendipity sequel before I go the cinema alone again. Hopefully by then it wont be such a trivial decision. I live in hope.

Bike riding basics

This week's (or should I say month’s) food for thought – does bike riding destroy your body and state of mind, or is it just mine?

Having been faced with the unfathomable prospect of enduring public transport for five days a week over the summer, I decided to take up cycling. Or to sound less like a portentous prick - riding my bike to work. For what started as an onerous task, has now become an enjoyable one. However, three months on and still lacking the ability to aerate a tyre, or god forbid replace it, I’ve come to the realisation there is more that meets the eye to those waxed legged, lycra clad, padded pant wearing individuals, who carry an impressive 10 speed gear change at their disposal.

My newfound appreciation for ‘cycling’ has made me understand the other side of driver tension and to echo the words of Police Commissioner Karl O’Callaghan, Australian drivers generally have a low consideration for other road users. Three months ago my ignorance would have made me unequivocally dispute this comment. I was one of those aggravated motorists feeling inconvenienced by having to slow down for cyclists. Often wondering why they couldn’t just do us ‘all’ a favour and ride on the footpath. But 10 minutes in to my first ride I quickly learnt bikes are not as safe as cars and sharing both the road and footpath with other users requires a considerable amount of concentration and a bike that is up to the task. Here lies my first mistake.

Rather than purchasing a new bike the amateur in me was blind sighted by aesthetic appeal; opting for an older style bike. While it undeniably has a certain retro look about it, given the advancement in bicycle specifications in the 40 years since it left the assembly line, it lacks the common modern day features you come to expect, such as suspension and a seat appropriate for someone with a derriere over the age of five. Riding it is certainly no pleasurable activity. Every crack, rock, stick, change in road surface can be felt as I straddle the handlebars with every inch of my life.

To put it ‘loosely’ there has been a few teething issues. The first being when the chain came off after an emergency braking situation. In an attempt to put it back on it I somehow ended up removing the back wheel and then having to call my housemate to pick me up. Back to the workshop it went. Following this you would think would anything else would be fairly nominal. However, at this point I was still struggling with how to get the air out of my specky pumping apparatus. Fed up with fellow cyclists telling me ‘mate your tyres are looking a little flat’ I decided to call in to a cycle shop and borrow their pump. Only problem is I wasn’t aware of how much air to put in and this led me to blowing the tyre tube up. It certainly raised some eyebrows from the staff who came rushing out and any bystanders in a 50-metre radius who were looking around to see if a drive by shooting had taken place. Mentally destroyed by this point in time I walked the bike home (with my helmet on – safety first) and attempted to change it myself – a cost effective measure. As you’d expect, a simple tube change turned into a four hour ordeal, leading me to find myself at my third cycle shop where I was greeted with the response ‘mate how the f*ck did you manage that?’. Unbeknown to me, my handy work cost me a new chain, tyre tube and shifter. There has since been another flat tyre and a visit to my fourth cycle shop.

While I admit the experience has been financially, mentally and physically draining, I am yet to be deterred. I can, however, assure you that I won’t be competing in any up coming triathlons or next years Tour de France. It’s all yours Cadel – respect bro! For the moment I’ll just stick with my 8km ride, praying I don’t have another flat and end up at what will now be my fifth cycle shop.

Bye for now,

Cuttsy