The details, as far as why I needed to get home directly, are lost to me now, but it probably had to do with being slort of sheep in the first place and having some stuff I needed to get done at home before I could hit the sack.
This happens to me quite a bit. Bike commuting is slightly more time consumptive than car commuting if you just look at the travel time. I can make it from house door to work door in about 35 minutes if I don't run into much traffic in the car; my best bike time is little over double that. Call it an extra 45 minutes.
Round trip, that's an hour and a half, not that bad if you figure car people often drive to a gym in the evening and work out for an hour. I may get behind on pruning/tying my tomatoes, but on my bike commute days I can at least cross 'work out' off my to-do list.
The biggest menace, though, is not the ride itself. It's the social interactions that almost inevitably happen. Like, say, you're coming across the Plaza on Broadway and you spot a bunch of costumed people getting ready to cause a ruckus.
The ruckus turned out to be a 'dance walk.' I whipped out my camera and started shooting, of course. One girl said something vaguely apologetic about the whole affair, and I said, "Are you kidding me? You guys are the funnest group I've encountered since I stumbled on the Hash House Harriers in the River Market."
I think the girl with the really bright tights was the one who piped up with the answer, "Yeah? My sister is a Hasher!" You don't say.
And then they were off, boogieing their way through the Plaza like a small, pedestrian Critical Mass.
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