People hate bikes

Michael left this morning at 8am.  I ran down the hallway to kiss him again before he got in the elevator because that's how I roll.
I hopped on my bike a little after 2pm today (found a penny immediately)  to meet up with Big D at Union Market in East Van.  While I was waiting for him the guy next to me struck up a conversation.  It turned out that he was from the North Shore also and so we talked about all the bike friendly improvements in North Van and how nice a ride it is from there to the market and he said he lived in Lower Lonsdale.  I said I too lived in Lower Lonsdale.  I gave him the cross street of where I live and he lives on the same street, one block over.  Small world.
After catching up with Big D and hearing about his weight loss competition at work and wishing him luck cooking a turkey for his family on Monday we hopped back on our bikes and headed in opposite directions.
I had imbibed a ginger beer at the market and knew I was going to have to use the washroom so I popped in on my mom for a brief visit before getting onto the seawall, hitting Hornby (lovely, lovely bike lane there) and making for Lions Gate.
This is where things got weird.
The Hornby bike lane is huge.  It's two lanes, it's separated from regular traffic by traffic planters and it actually has its own bike traffic lights.  It is THE designated bike lane to get from south to north across downtown Vancouver.
So I'm on Hornby and I'm biking along and not being a jerk and smiling at other cyclists (one guy routinely pulled up aside me at red lights and finally was forced to admit that he wasn't following me) and I'm heading down the slope to get onto the seawall to get onto the Lions Gate and I notice two not so attractive and rather visibly drunk men meandering across my bike lane.  The traffic light was green, my two lane bike lane was green and it's 5:30pm and these gentlemen look up an see me coming towards them and are immediately confused.
I want to make the green light that is directly behind them. I want them to get out of my bike lane which is painted bright green with white bicycles on it.  I don't want to have to slam on the brakes because these guys are ignorant and so, checking the oncoming lane and seeing that it's clear, I slip into the oncoming bike lane willing these two to step out of my way and get up on to the curb.
And here is what happens as I close in on them.  They have remained in my bike lane.  They are ugly and they are drunk and as I look at them with no small degree of incredulity and start to move by them one of them lunges at me as though to grab me or scare me off my bike.
I swerve around them, make the green light, his ugly visage still in my head and I think about this for a good long while.
I shouldn't have really had to think about it for a good long while because who is that inebriated before 6pm on a Saturday?  And do you think he would have pulled the same move if I had been sixty pounds heavier and a man?  You can bet he would not have.  Not only that, but if he tried to do that to a 35 year old man, there would be a significant chance that that man would get off his bike and do something about it.
Unsurprisingly, I did not do anything about it and continued my ride home fairly incident free except for the gentleman that called me a "fucking idiot" when I went straight through a green light while he was trying to make a left hand turn.
It was a beautiful day and a stellar ride.  I got to visit with my friend and my mom and as I was biking along the seawall after coming off the Cambie bridge I was, again, struck by how absolutely stunning our city is.
By the time I rolled into the alley and unlocked the door to the garage I was feeling depressed and bullied.  A man tried to get me off my bike and another one called me a fucking idiot.  And I suppose, again, if I was a nicely built man of the same age I could have punched the guy on Hornby and flagged down the guy that screamed  at me and asked him what the fuck his problem was.  But then what?  The guy on Hornby was a bully because he wouldn't have done the same thing to a guy.  And the driver on Welch would be like trying to talk to right wing fundamentalist Christian: out of touch with reality.
Right.  All of this made me hungry so I decided to order some Vietnamese food from a restaurant that Michael never wants to try and so I'm walking down the hallway and I just see the elevator door closing.  Like, just.  Like, I was sure whoever was on the elevator didn't even see me coming and it's not a big deal anyways because I'm on the third floor.  I'm turning the handle to go take the stairs and I hear elevator door slide open.  I look over and there is a young (young) and attractive, well groomed guy... and his chair... there.
I say thanks and quickly run over to the elevator.  He smells good.  We start taking the elevator down and he says "I'm playing poker tonight.  There's not enough chairs".  I say "I figured it had to be something like that.  Or Thanksgiving, maybe".  He's British.
I hold the door open for him and his chair and wish him luck at his poker game.
Glad I picked up that penny and some modicum of sobriety at 6:30pm on the Saturday night of a long weekend.