Colonic Holding Pattern

The bane of my morning commute existence: The Wheat Street/USC train crossing, at 6:29 AM. It's like it's reading my mind. If I leave early, the train is early. I f I leave late, the train is late.

Rode into work today to clear my mind of the flotsam and jetsam of the modern bicycle industry life and all I could think of was the Double Down. Couldn't focus. My mind was racing, like a hummingbird scuba diving in a barrel of espresso. A train downtown delayed me for a few minutes and its rambunctious, restless, rhythmic rumbling reminded me of my colon's own future rhythmic rumblings after this afternoon's Double "downing". Two shall enter the culinary octagon, but only one can leave, according to KFC's helpful pamphlet, "So You Want To Kill Yourself: How To Order and Eat A Double Down". I rode by the KFC in 3 Fountains around 7:15 AM and unbelievably, the doors were not open! Even more unbelievable, nobody was standing in line. No tents. No drum circles of Double Down enthusiasts, much like the Ribwich hippies from that Simpsons episode. Oh well, what's a few more hours wait???