One such example of this rather bizarre behaviour is Mr Cannondale, from the ferry. Granted, that's not his real name. Of course, having never spoken to him, I don't actually know what his name is. I know a lot about what he looks like, and I spend the ten minutes we spend "together" sitting at the back of the Bayswater ferry into town looking at his bikes and mentally comparing componentry.
It only really dawned on me today that he might work in a bike shop. Only in a bike shop can you get away with wearing cargo shorts and Lake shoes every day. When I decided on this, I of course became obsessed with deciding which one. Was it Penny Farthing Cycles, on Symonds Street, where, when I fell off my Jamis a few days after moving here, I went to have my headset tightened? Was it in fact him that tightened it? This was unlikely, due to the fact that I got a good look at the guy who did it. Hmm.
Turns out he works at Bike75. No, I didn't find this out by asking him, like a normal person would. I worked it out from the t-shirt he was wearing that had a Bike75 logo on it. Given that we were sitting on the same bench on the ferry, I couldn't google it there and then (a shame really that there's no unsecured wireless network over the Waitemata). Instead, I texted my mum and another friend to do it for me. Within minutes I learnt that Bike75 is a 4000sqm store in Freemans Bay, and Mr Cannondale's place of employment.
The giveaway logo on Mr Cannondale's shirt
Where the hell is Freemans Bay? Being a Cowtown native who gets confused outside a one-mile radius of my home, I had to do some more research. I learnt that it's kind of near Ponsonby. Later, at home I google-street-viewed it, so now I know exactly what the building he works in looks like.
Was this really necessary? I mean, really? My mum suggested I badger him about giving me some hours there. But to be honest, that's a little embarrassing. This guy is my self-professed "arch rival" based on his bike stable. He's also the guy who helped me up when I fell over on the ferry steps, Jamis in tow, yesterday. That was pretty fucking humanising. Here I am, judging him on his Ultegra crank-arms (yeah, they're better than my 105s, but they're nothing on the Felt I'm getting!). I strut around on the ferry with my Bell skating helmet, complete with Bad Religion and XTERRA stickers, and then I go and fall over trying to get up the steps. What a loser! Turns out Mr Cannondale isn't the wanker I've made him out to be. This morning he even waited for me at the top of the steps and took the Jamis off me so I could safely ascend the steps. This is getting ridiculous.
Mr Cannondale, what is your name? Can I have a job?
Some other interesting ferry folk include the lovely Canadian woman who comes on the 8:10 each morning. She dresses SO inappropriately, but that's partly what makes her so endearing.
Every morning she walks up the steps with more flair than I have on the dancefloor at the Outback (not hard, let me assure you), in heels that have got to be at least six inches high. She wears dresses that are a little too short, and lipstick in a shade that's too outrageous for daytime. She is with ease the coolest woman on the ferry. Before we leave the harbour, she wraps her long hair in a headscarf which she adorns in a way that's similar to a burqa veil, and ties it in a knot, just to the side. I often mention quietly to Sam (that's superhuman Sam) - if he's on the ferry instead of like, hotfooting it to work- that I wish I could wear a headscarf and look that glam. She's friendly too. Prefers the company of men, which I can understand. There's something just a little Holly Golightly about her.
Last week, she spoke with one of the ferry staff (another enigmatic type, who I've created a life for in my head, but never said more than "thank you" to) and said "I couldn't give two didleys if I don't get my residence visa." Two didleys? How gorgeous! I want to use it, but I just don't think I have the grace to pull it off.
Sigh. I should get a life of my own.