It's Not a Date Unless Someone Wants to Throw Up

M sweetly suggested that we bike to Georgetown, have dinner at Tacklebox and bike home. I was really excited to show her the beauty of the Capital Crescent Trail and my favorite bridge. I was so touched that she wanted to try a hobby of mine. Molli-ism of the day. "I want a deluxe Jell-O pudding seat." We borrowed a bike from H&Z, got her a pair of padded cycling shorts and set off at around 5:30 PM. It was a little later than I had planned but I was late coming back from volunteering and was hoping we could get home just before it got dark.

The ride down was stunning. It was a cool, clear evening and we flew. It was shocking to enter the congestion and hubbub of Georgetown - the tourists, traffic, and people in red and white football jerseys cheering at each other. I was so glad we didn't drive or take the motorcycle in.

Tacklebox was perfect. It's a come as you are, sit wherever you want, food in a basket, fresh sustainable food kind of place. We got fried oysters, lobster rolls, fried green tomatoes and corn on the cob. It was beach vacation food without the sand and mosquitoes.

As we were finishing dinner, I started to notice all the cars turn on their lights. Night was falling and we still had to ride home. I got a little lost trying to find the path down to the trail but we were on the way. The vestiges of day glowed through the trees and with less people on the trail, we were able to ride side by side.

It got dark. I couldn't see and ended up falling off the trail. I noted that I needed a brighter light. M offered to ride upfront stating she had better night vision and so my light can reflect off of her. Every lone jogger and cyclist (many with no lights!) was a potential serial killer rapist. I really don't get these people that run/ cycle in the darkness. I remembered the scary stories camp counselors told of the two fingered psycho that hacked people to pieces in the woods. I was huffing and puffing and M was doing her best to keep things lighthearted and fun. We got to the last bridge and all the fried oysters were sitting at the top of my throat pushing to come out. "Honey, I'm going to throw up." Note: don't ride home uphill for an hour after you've stuffed your face with lobster and fried oysters.

We made it back to the car and home. I was so proud of us and eventually, my stomach settled. M is my hero. It wouldn't be a perfect date unless someone wanted to throw up.