The heck with bars.
My last couple of days in Chicago were interesting. I hit a guy's motorcycle, and he asked me out.
Parallel parking: never a fun task. Less of a fun task when I pulled too far forward, bumped a crotch-rocket and toppled it. Naturally, I had a panic attack, sprang from the car and managed to haul the bike back into a standing position (thanks, adrenaline), but not without breaking the blinker. No one on the street knew whose bike it was, so I just tucked a note inside the helmet with my contact info and hoped I wouldn't get screamed at.
A few hours later, the very pleasant-sounding owner of the bike phoned me. He was super-understanding, terribly thankful that I'd left a note, and suggested I just reimburse him for the blinker cover. I was on board. We met up the next day, I paid him for the part, we chatted a bit, and he totally asked me out. And, were I not leaving town the next day, I would have accepted.
Parallel parking: never a fun task. Less of a fun task when I pulled too far forward, bumped a crotch-rocket and toppled it. Naturally, I had a panic attack, sprang from the car and managed to haul the bike back into a standing position (thanks, adrenaline), but not without breaking the blinker. No one on the street knew whose bike it was, so I just tucked a note inside the helmet with my contact info and hoped I wouldn't get screamed at.
A few hours later, the very pleasant-sounding owner of the bike phoned me. He was super-understanding, terribly thankful that I'd left a note, and suggested I just reimburse him for the blinker cover. I was on board. We met up the next day, I paid him for the part, we chatted a bit, and he totally asked me out. And, were I not leaving town the next day, I would have accepted.