i·ro·ny |ˈī-rə-nē; ˈī(-ə)r-nē|

2 [def]:a state of affairs or an event that seems deliberately contrary to what one expects and is often amusing as a result.

In Dublin, I spent 3 months dodging traffic, weaving in and out of belligerent pedestrians, racing double-decker buses, and ignoring traffic laws not because it was fun (ok, it was a little fun), but because it was necessary. If I didn't do what I did, then I probably would have been hit. As a cyclist (especially one that rides a road bike and wears a messenger bag), you have been targeted by the likes of yellow taxis, green buses, and anyone that has some excess aggression. The Dublin drivers are used to bicycles NOT following traffic laws and therefore come to expect a bike passing you on the right or left, ignoring one-way signs, and splitting traffic. Irish cars and bicycles have evolved and coexisted by the unspoken motto: To each his own. A possible explanation of this riding etiquette is the paucity of cycle lanes or the lack of clear bicycle street permissions despite Dublin's rich history of bicycles. Therefore, our bipedal allies have adapted to riding on crowded streets and, in turn, the city has accepted the fact that bicycles are not "vehicles," and thus general traffic laws do not apply to them.

You probably think I am exaggerating. You probably think I am being extreme. That's fine. We'll talk again after you ride your bike in Dublin. Just beware of Night of the Living Dead reruns playing at your front door...every night of the week. Except these zombies have a more colorful vocabulary than just aaarrrgggh and zzzmmmmaaaahhh.


Enter Portland, Oregon, the Utopia of Bikes; one of the bike-friendliest and bike-progressive cities in the world alongside Amsterdam, Berlin, Copenhagen and Helsinki.

Tuesday I was pulled over by a cop while riding my bike. He wrote me a $250 ticket for rolling through a stop sign where the only other cars involved were the ones in front and behind me.

Now that's fucking irony.