And I thought I'd left home repairs at home: Jessica leans too hard on a sink while doing a neti pot, breaking it from the wall, bursting pipes, and leading to a plumbing emergency. We shut the water off at the meter, I get help buying some new parts, and proceed with the repairs.
Some important aspects of groups I'm learning to appreciate during this trip are brought to light as I deal with black water. An initial repair I make is still leaking from the p trap; while I may leave this if just fixing quickly / up to what it was when we got here, I tear off the shoddy work I've done and do a better job. This work's aided by a good idea from Sean on how to use bike tube chunks as gaskets and made more enjoyable because I know the group's counting on me to get this done while they prepare for the festival. I add supporting bamboo legs and even clean up my mess, motivated and empowered by the fact that this isn't another solitary project just for myself. Multiple people thanking me afterwards means much more than I'd have thought it would, turning a poorly-equipped sink repair into a thoroughly rewarding experience.
The critical mass ride puts Austin's to shame. ~100 people attend, of all ages and on all sorts of bikes. There's an organizer with a megaphone, signs demanding "respetame," and very organized corking, I'm thoroughly impressed. During a stop, I help somebody whose derailleur caught in his spokes do a quick single-speed conversion, lose the group, and meet a dude who runs a Monterrey bike shop. Part availability won't be an issue: he has an account with QBP, the biggest distributor in the U.S.
Catching the group, we arrive at the festival. It's all fun and celebration, free veggie food from Food Not Bombs, a puppet show, music, and bike movies. The slideshow Billy and Leslie created of our trip is instant bittersweetness.
The night's capped with some nightcaps. Mario, a Pueblo Biciclitero, takes me to Bar Mexico. It's an equivalent of Lovejoy's, my favorite bar in Austin, complete with cheap drinks and biker / flame decor. My Spanish ability seems to increase directly with each ounce of beer I consume. By the time I make it to my rooftop bed, I've waxed philosophical en espanol rompido on the differences between men and women, drug trafficking, and other topics now lost. My tongue liberated, memories lost:)