Balance and Moderation

It's been a rough week and it ain't over yet. I'm still feeling a bit under the weather, but at least I did manage to get on the bike a few times. On top of the lingering chest cold, there's also the general cold and clammy weather, the new dog, various bike club and sponsorship duties, race results to be posted and scored for LCCS (maybe next week!), the club training camp this weekend, and of course, work. It has been an exercise in balance. Cycling-wise, the week has been all about moderation and frustration, not necessarily in that order. Wednesday's morning ride got rained out, more or less. I got dressed and ready to go, but opened the door to cold, lots of wind, and a light falling mist. It was a combination that only Streptococcus pneumoniae would enjoy. I was sorry to disappoint them, but I was planning on using my lungs for breathing later that week, so I had to pass on the ride.

Thursday the weather was a bit better. Still fairly windy and cold, but at least it was dry. The group on the levee was on the small side, which kept the pace down considerably. Every now and then Rob would pop out of the paceline and zoom up the road for a bit, but for the most part we maintained a steady pace in the low 20s. In keeping with my goal of avoiding an opportunistic pulmonary infection, I was keeping my effort level fairly low. When we got within sight of the grain elevators I dropped off the back and rode easy until I saw the group coming back the other way. So far, so good. I can still feel some lung congestion when I cough, but it is gradually improving. Friday morning was a touch warmer with the wind shifting around to the East. Of course I over-dressed anyway. I think my body is still having a little trouble with its thermostat because I seem to get chilled a bit too easily. Anyway, it was just Scott and me this morning when we started out. Then, as we approached the playground, we saw Donald come up the ramp and start riding upriver. I knew it had to be he because who else would be riding in that temperature without even knee-warmers? We ever-so-gradually started to pursue him, taking a few miles to actually make contact.

So when I leave work today I need to stop at the grocery store and pick up some training camp essentials before departing for Percy Quinn. In this case, that would be wine, coffee and Powerbars. The weather promises to be, well, challenging. Damn, I sure am ready for some warm weather.

Chasing the Coyote

It was time to get back on the bike. The thick congestion still lingered deep in my chest and I had awakened in a t-shirt damp with sweat, but I needed a ride anyway. I threw on an extra layer and stepped out into the cold wind thinking, "I might be crazy." Well, I guess that's not really news and it's rarely stopped me before, so I headed off for the early levee ride. I don't know how many times I've gone through these little setbacks, but I guess by now I've gotten it down pretty well. The plan was to ride with the group, keeping the effort level as low as possible, and backing off if I started to "feel" my lungs. I once made the mistake of ignoring my own advice and ended up with a little case of pneumonia a week later.

The group was a small one, thanks to the wind I suppose, and the result of that was a nice steady pace as we headed up the river. The first thing I noticed was how fresh my legs felt after five days of relative rest. So things were going along pretty smoothly. I was already planning on dropping off the pace around the parish line and riding alone at a recovery pace while I waited for the group on its way back.

Out past River Ridge, a couple of miles before Williams Blvd., we saw a coyote run up and over the levee heading toward the river. The batture there was mostly flooded, so when he got down to the bottom, all he could do was run along the thin strip of grass between the concrete apron and the water. I guess he could see us coming up from behind and was trying to stay ahead of us. We were rolling along at around 23 mph and this guy was pulling away from us. This went on for at least a mile. The coyote was just cruising smoothly along at maybe 24 mph looking like he could keep it up all day. Finally Brady put the hammer down up front, pushing the pace up a couple more mph in order to catch up. There was a pretty good crosswind along that stretch, so I decided it would be a good time to ease up and give my lungs a little break. The coyote soon came to a section of batture where he quickly disappeared into the brush.

Most of the group turned around at The Dip, so it wasn't long before I was back in the pack. After a quick stop at Zotz for a cup of coffee with Mignon who had a little time to kill, I got home none the worse for wear. So I guess that's progress. I guess I'm still a little ways from being fully recovered, but it looks like there's hope.

Lost Weekend, Lingering Lassitude

This boy is not a happy camper. Although the worst of the fever and chills are over, it is clear that even today I'm still not quite well. I had really hoped -- even expected -- to be back on the bike this morning, but when I woke up and looked out the window I could barely see across the street because of the dense fog. On top of that, I must be still running the same low-grade fever that kept me miserable all day Sunday. I did make it in to work this morning, but as soon as the Advil wore off I started feeling chilled again. Not good. Not good at all.

On the Couch

In retrospect, it all started some time Wednesday afternoon. At first I attributed it to the leftover Popeye's fried chicken I'd had for both breakfast and lunch. The nagging discomfort down in my chest was still there Thursday morning when I went out to meet the morning long ride on the levee, and I was hoping that the ride might finally clear it out. Halfway through the ride, though, I knew it wasn't going to happen. Something was wrong, and this time I couldn't lay all the blame on Popeye's. By the time we were halfway home I was sitting off the back of the paceline thinking, "why the hell do my legs hurt so much today?" Half an hour later, as I walked in the door already shivering, I knew. Yep. I was definitely sick. Fever, chills, aches. I ripped off the damp riding clothes and dove under the covers until the shivering stopped and I could down a couple of Advil. After a little rest and a number of pills I was feeling well enough to fire up the computer and get some things done, listening to the live stream of a legislative hearing and joining a conference call. That night, however, I slept barely at all, alternating between fever and chills the whole time. Friday I took a different strategy (as if I had a choice). The computer and blackberry stayed off and for about twelve hours I climbed out from under the covers only every four hours to take more medication. If I haven't returned you phone call or email, that's why.


Friday evening The Wife came home with a new adopted dog. Lying in bed clutching the covers around my neck I thought, "wow, she's already got a replacement for me and I'm not even dead yet." The dog has had kind of a rough history and is pretty skittish, but hopefully he'll settle in over the next week or so. Anyway, Saturday has been significantly better, but with this deep lung thing still going on I think a hard ride on Sunday would be a rather huge mistake. So for now I'm setting my sights on an easy mid-morning spin on the levee. Hopefully I'll feel more or less normal by then.

Fat to Ashes: Back to Routine

The Monday before Fat Tuesday should really be a chance to recover and rest up for Mardi Gras. To that end, many of us had the day off from work. So naturally, a few of us got together for a long ride up on the levee. It was fairly cold and windy as hell, but when Brady innocently looked over at me and asked if we wanted to go all the way out to Ormond, I said, "sure, as long as you're pulling!" Maybe he took me literally, but for whatever reason he motored all the way out there with the rest of us hanging on and being very quiet, hoping we wouldn't see the dreaded "pull through" elbow wiggle. It was pretty much like sitting behind a motorcycle in a headwind. I, for one, would certainly have been going quite a bit slower on my own. So anyway, we had a really nice ride while the rest of you were at work. I like the photo at the top because if shows three versions of club jerseys spanning I guess six or seven years.

That evening we hit yet another couple of parades, Proteus and Orpheus. The latter was excellent - probably some of the nicest floats I saw this year. By the time the last part of the parade was passing the crowds had thinned out quite a bit. Earlier that day there had been a flurry of emails about a Mardi Gras morning ride, with the consensus finally settling on a 7 am start. I figured I could at least make the first part of that ride, but I really needed to be back home by 8:30 if I expected to catch Rex, which was rolling at 10 am.

So Tuesday morning I headed out to see who would show up. It was still pretty cold, but the wind had died down a bit. Even so, I was thinking we'd be lucky to have five or six for this one. Well, we ended up with at least a dozen and on top of that the pace was pretty fast. I dropped off at the parish line with one or two others and we rode back down the river a bit easier. By the time I got home there were already truck floats lining up all along South Claiborne Avenue playing, quite loudly and concurrently, six or seven different types of music. Mardi Gras Day!

We sent the sister-in-law and her daughter off with the neighbors to our meeting spot on St. Charles Avenue, and half an hour later hopped on the bikes to ride down there ourselves. There is no other day of the year on which you will find more bikes on the streets of New Orleans. It's always kind of neat to ride down Prytania with all the other families on bikes. Just as we got to Washington Avenue, the entire Rex caravan of a dozen stretch limousines pulled out in front of us (I think those who aren't riding on the floats always have a big breakfast at Commander's Palace). We rode down the sidewalk alongside them for the next few blocks until we could cut over to Second Street.

As usual, Rex stopped for a long time at the mansion on St. Charles while the police moved barricades and got the rest of the route set up after Zulu. In front of them the Jefferson City Buzzards walking club waited restlessly. I went over and got some good photos of Rex and some of the Captains, and even Rex's grandson. This year's Rex is on Tulane's Board, so it was kind of nice to see the rapidly growing and improving Tulane Marching Band doing such a fine job. After the parade we ran back up to the Bremmerman's condo for some wine and Popeye's fried chicken (I prefer a nice Pinot Noir with my fried chicken, but most people go with a Sauvignon Blanc or even Champagne).

A while later I shouldered my backpack and we started our walk down to the French Quarter. The weather was really great; maybe a bit on the cool side but otherwise just perfect. Just as we crossed Canal Street we ran right into one of the marching clubs on its way into the Quarter. I was very tempted to just join them but, alas, I was unmasked and without a costume. So after a stop at Ralph and Kacoo's for a glass of wine and shrimp remoulade, I spent an hour and a half wandering around Bourbon and Royal Streets soaking up the energy and taking pictures. It was still fairly early in the afternoon, so things weren't really too wild yet. Sadly, we headed back around 4 pm, got home around 5 or 5:30, and promptly invited the neighbors over for some grilled catfish and more wine.

So now it's back to the old routine. I think it will take me yet a few days to get fully switched over from Mardi Gras season to Lent. I know my liver will appreciate the change. You can see more photos on my Kodak Gallery page (they look a lot better if you select the slideshow and click the full-screen icon).

Mardi Gras Weekend

Surviving Mardi Gras weekend is all about balance. It's especially true if you have visitors and plan to hit most of the parades too. After a few days of less than ideal weather, I was glad to find a clear sky Saturday morning. Granted, it was freezing cold and I went out with knee-warmers underneath my tights. We'd hit the parades Friday night and I was still feeling the effects as I rode out to the lakefront. To make a long story short, I was feeling pretty miserable for this Giro Ride, and although I was prepared to go out to Fort Pike I was kind of relieved when basically everyone turned around at Venetian Isles.

That night we went over to the Tidewater Building downtown for the big Endymion parade. As usual, that worked out nicely. We had tons of food and drink up in the Psychiatry offices, unlimited bathroom access, and didn't have to stand around in the cold any longer than necessary. Of course, Endymion usually features long unexplained gaps in the parade, and this year was no exception, but we were still back home around 11 pm or so, I think.


A couple of hours later the phone rang with a pick-up request from some of the folks who are crashing at the house. I headed downtown thinking that by then I'd have a pretty clear shot at the French Quarter, but found Canal Street still closed down because the clean-up army hadn't gotten to South Claiborne yet. Not a problem, though. The locals know how to get across the usual parade routes by way of the interstate. So I picked up the crew at Esplanade and Royal and was back home inside of an hour, which was pretty good under the circumstances.

It was hard to get out of bed a few hours later to ride back out to the lakefront for the Sunday Giro. I was pretty sure we would have a group for the long ride out to Fort Pike. It was still pretty cold, and as I fumbled around getting ready to head out, all I could find to put in my pocket was a single gel pack leftover from one of the summer races. I was completely out of PowerBars, my usual training ride stable. This would later come back to haunt me as I flirted with bonk toward the end of the ride. At least I was feeling a bit better and didn't spend the whole ride sucking wheels like I had on Saturday. We had a nice group that did the long ride, and together with the very welcome lack of wind, it made for a really good smooth training ride. I ate that one gel out at Fort Pike (I practically had to chew it because it was still pretty cold), and felt pretty good for most of the way back, but when I sprinted up the Seabrook bridge I think I used up my very last glycogen molecule. Oh well; close enough. I rode back home from the lakefront nice and easy, and when I got home dug into whatever I could find to refuel. My legs would be sore for the rest of the day.

Last night was the Bacchus parade, and for that one we went over to the neighbor's parents' condo right on St. Charles Avenue. The weather was much warmer, so it was pretty nice. Since Drew was the King of Bacchus this year, the crowd for the first part of the parade was even bigger than usual, but toward the end as it got colder and later the crowd thinned out nicely.


I took some photos, most of which are a little rough:

• Friday Parades


• Saturday Parades


• Sunday Parades

From Superbowl to Mardi Gras

It's been a tough week for riding. I skipped riding on Monday for reasons I don't even remember, compensating somewhat by going to a Spin class that evening. I was determined to ride Tuesday morning, however. It had rained much of the night, but by 6:00 is had stopped and the temperature had already started dropping. I got dressed for temperatures in the low 40s and went downstairs with plans to ride the old full-fender Pennine. I took it off the hook where it hangs in the basement, but when I plopped it down on the basement floor it didn't bounce like it should have. Flat tire! Well, I figured nobody else would be riding anyway, so since it wouldn't really matter if I made it out there for the usual 6:15 time, I went ahead and fixed the flat. Ten minutes later I was all suited up and aired up. When I finally got out the door I had a little surprise. In addition to the cold and the 25 mph north wind, and the darkness, there was a misty rain still falling. I went about five blocks and by then I knew I'd be soaking wet within fifteen minutes. So once again I bailed out and ultimately retreated to the warmth of the local Starbucks.

That night we went over to The Wife's office on Canal Street where we could park and party in comfort until the Saints parade started. It was cold and windy when we walked the five or six blocks over to Loyola and Poydras to see the parade, and by the time we got there the crowd was about ten deep on both sides of the road. We really weren't able to see very much. I snaked my way into the crowd and found a spot where I could see something of the parade, still about five rows from the front. There were some great photo opportunities, but only for someone with a really serious camera. My trusty handheld was no match for the combination of distance, darkness and movement. The Saints players looked like they were having a really great time, though. I include here for posterity some motion-blurred photos of Drew and Krewe. I didn't get a decent picture of Hartley (the Saints kicker) who, appropriately enough, was riding in a big high-heeled shoe float from the Muses parade. (For this ad-hoc parade, most of the regular Mardi Gras parade krewes donated one float. Muses was supposed to roll tonight, but they just postponed until tomorrow because of the weather.) I think, though, that the highlight of the parade was Saints coach Sean Peyton waving around the Vince Lombardi trophy for the crowd.

Wednesday morning wasn't a whole lot better. It was colder, in the mid-30s, and really windy, but at least it wasn't raining. I got to the usual meeting spot on the levee and it was just Erich and me, and later Taylor. We battled the wind and cold out to Williams Blvd., turning around early because Erich needed to get back and I needed to NOT be riding the twelve miles back home alone!

So this morning was, once again, cold and windy. I piled on the clothes and headed out despite the fact that half of the weather radar image was green. Up on the levee I found Mignon, Erich, Tim, Woody, Chip and Richard. We started out with a nice little paceline, but as the pace started to creep up toward the 28 mph mark riders started dropping back one by one. Eventually just Tim, Woody and Erich were pulling and the rest of us were sitting on. Tim and Woody would be turning around at The Dip, so I figured it would be wise for me to save a little for the ride back into the wind. Up until then I was occasionally feeling a little raindrop or two, but once we got past the dip they became more and more frequent. By the time we turned around at the grain elevator we were getting a light mix of sleet and drizzle. Luckily it was moving slowly and after riding back downriver a few miles we outran it. Unfortunately we couldn't outrun the wind that was holding our speed down in the 17-20 mph range. I'm hoping that the weather will finally improve a bit for the weekend. Riding will be complicated by Mardi Gras guests and parades, so I may have to play it by ear. I'd really like to do a long ride on the northshore on Sunday, but that may not be feasible. Anyway, it's looking like it will be kind of a cold Mardi Gras this weekend, and after the Superbowl and Mardi Gras, I think that even the most stalwart of locals will be ready for Lenten Season this year! Well, at least for a week or so . . . . .

Up and Down the Mississippi

It was a good thing I didn't wait until the last minute to meet the group over at Starbucks this morning. We were doing a club style ride today - moderate pace, interesting route, coffee and beignets - and since we weren't starting until 7:30, I might easily have rolled around in bed for an extra half-hour. Luckily, I got up a little early. Equally luckily, I went downstairs with the idea of putting a little lube on the chain before the ride. Unluckily, I discovered my rear tire was flat - the same tire that I'd flatted yesterday. Turned out there was a tiny piece of steel wire stuck in the tire. I needed pliers to get the damned thing out. Then I patched the tube and put it right back into the tire while, probably while the glue was still wet. I could have waited a while for it to fully dry, but if I had, I wouldn't have had time for a cup of coffee before the ride. I needed that cup of coffee. So despite the delay, I was the first person to arrive at Starbucks.

We started out around 7:45 with a nice group of ten or twelve, eventually picking up a few more en route. It was a chilly and overcast morning with a nagging wind. I was a bit on the cold side for most of the day's ride until the sun finally came out. We rode up the river in a nice double paceline out to the Destrehan (aka I-310) bridge. I really like the long climb up that pretty suspension bridge, although today I wasn't interested in pushing it too much. After spending most of Saturday afternoon and evening cleaning stuff out of the attic so that I could store stuff that I was cleaning out of the back room so that I could move a bed into that room from another room so that I could put a new double bed in there, I knew my bikie back and arms would be a little sore. I don't know how many trips I made from the basement to the attic and back, but they were many for sure. Anyway, as I'd expected, the group kind of shattered going over the bridge, but we regrouped at the bottom before the rather uncomfortable five miles on the shoulderless river road before the westbank bike path starts.

The westbank bike path always feels a lot different from the eastbank. It seems like the river is much closer to the levee on that side, and until you get to Gretna, it feels like you're really out in the country. We had a rather long delay waiting for the bridge at the Harvey Canal lock, but after that it seemed the sun was out more and I finally started to warm up a bit. We arrived at the Algiers ferry just after it left, so that meant a long wait while it crossed the river twice. Luckily the sun was out, so it wasn't too bad.

Once we got onto the ferry we walked over to the sunny side for the fast trip across the river, and then headed straight for Cafe' du Monde. When I rolled up to Cafe' du Monde, I figured we'd have to bail for sure. There was a line of people a block long waiting to get in. Of course, being locals, we knew about the top-secret take-out window in back. There, the line was relatively short, but still a bit longer than I'd have wanted to wait. Just then one of the waiters popped out from the seating area and when we asked him if we could give him an order, he said, "sure!" Awesome. Felt like we'd won the lottery! So we ordered five orders of beignets and a few cups of cafe' au lait, and ten minutes later we were all happy campers.

By the time we left Cafe' du Monde it was after noon and I guess a few people were needing to get home since it was, after all, SuperBowl day and there were pre-game parties to attend. We flew down Decatur and Magazine like a bunch of kamakazie hipsters on fixies, weaving between the lanes of gridlocked traffic through the downtown streets. Once we finally got a clear road on Magazine Street, we just took over the road all the way back uptown. Definitely a fun ride.

Oh, but the way, there are 44 seconds left at the Superbowl, the Saints are ahead 31 to 17, and they just got the ball. Could it be? Holy shit. They won the Superbowl.

A Fast and Windy Giro

After a week of missed or shortened rides and a lonely wet one on Friday I was all primed for a good Giro Ride on Saturday. As I rode out to the lakefront into a chilly and stiff headwind, I was already having premonitions about the ride. The prior week had been pretty bad, riding-wise, and I had a feeling that there would be some jumpy legs in the group today. Riding west on Lakeshore Drive I could see the group coming my way. It was definitely a big one. I turned around and tucked in somewhere near the back, and the first thing I noticed was a whole lot of Herring jerseys. I looked around at the other riders in the group and knew immediately that all of the necessary ingredients for an explosion were present. We weren't even to the end of Lakeshore Drive when someone next to me commented that the group seemed kind of jumpy.

So although I was expecting a fast and windy Giro today, what I wasn't expecting was a big surge going up the Seabrook bridge. I probably could have gone with it, but I figured that surely the group would make short work of closing that little gap. Well, not quite. A pretty substantial group was already way off the front by the time we came back down onto Hayne Blvd., and as usual I was in the second group. It took a minute to get organized, but eventually we got rolling pretty well. VJ took a couple of fast pulls, Mike W. went flying by on the right for some reason, and then Howard did this big surge at the front that pretty much convinced most of the group to stop pulling altogether. Anyway, despite the disruptions and crosswinds, the speed stayed high all the way out to Venetian Isles. I guess we dropped down to 26 a couple of times, but in general we were mostly in the 28-30 mph range. I was pretty impressed that Erich was able to stay in the rotation despite the fact that he was riding a fixed gear in the range of 48 x 16. I'm pretty sure I spend a fair amount of time in a 53 x 15 or 53 x 14, myself. I would have taken some pictures, but between the speed and the wind I was never particularly comfortable about taking my hands off the bars to fumble with the camera.

At Venetian Isles, Rob, Jered and I guess a few others continued on, but I think the rest of us figured we were getting an adequate workout anyway. The ride back had a few easier sections, but I wouldn't say it was easy. I made a couple of good efforts up the bridges, and then finally dropped it back down to the small ring for the ride home. Unfortunately I flatted just as we turned off of Lakeshore Drive onto Marconi. Some of the guys were stopping at Matt's house to pick up something, so I just rode the flat until I got there. Always easier to fix a flat when you're not stuck alone on the side of a deserted road.

Tomorrow I'm doing a club ride here in town, which I guess is one reason I was willing to ride kind of hard today. Speaking of "here in town," we had an election today and old Mitch Landrieu just won without a runoff. Two fairly decent people got re-elected to the at-large city council seats, and in my own city council district there will be a runoff between two acceptable people. Hmmm. Perhaps there's some hope for this city after all. Now if the Saints can pull off something spectacular in Miami tomorrow . . . . .

Eagle Scouting

Monday should have been a rest day. Really. My legs were still feeling the weekend when I awoke, so I pulled the covers over my head and quickly decided to skip the Monday morning ride. Nonetheless, 6:30 p.m. found me sitting outside the SPIN room at the Reily Center waiting for the 6:45 class with Jean, whose classes are always much more to my taste than most. If they'd just tone down the music.....I'm seriously considering bring earplugs. Anyway, I ended up doing a few pretty hard efforts during that class that I knew would be coming back to haunt me.

Tuesday morning was a mess. Since I hadn't ridden on Monday, my riding gear was scattered all over the place. I'd thrown a bunch of stuff in the wash the day before, so with only about five minutes left to get out the door I was still searching through the dryer for gloves and tights and stuff. Where the hell were my tights? I ran back upstars thinking I'd left them somewhere in the bedroom. No luck. I ran back downstairs and searched through my bag. Still no luck. I went back to the dryer and finally found them completely wrapped up in a bedsheet. By then there was no way I was going to get to the levee in time to meet the group, so I figured I'd ride easy and catch the group on the flipside. It was probably some kind of divine intervention, because the last thing I needed Tuesday morning (my legs were still a little sore) was a hard 40-mile jam session. So I rode up the river at a nice easy pace looking a the scenery. First, I saw Woody heading back - he'd obviously turned around early. Then, maybe half a mile from Williams Blvd., I saw Jon coming back too - I guess he's still working on that publication deadline. Just after Jon went by, I saw something big out of the corner of my eye, and looked over to see a bald eagle landing on the batture. He sat there for a while as I slammed on the brakes and fumbled around in my jersey pocket trying to get my camera out. I think I got off one unfocused shot before he took off, flying low through the willow trees lining the river. I lost sight of him and got back on the bike, but a moment later I spotted him way up on one of the tall steel power line posts. He was eating something fairly large, but since he was basically standing on it and was pretty far away I never could make out what it was. Anyway, I did my best to get a few photos, but at that range my little pocket camera is way out of its league. Even so, I was glad to have spotted an eagle because I hadn't seen one on the river in a year or so. I finally met up with the group and had a nice ride back to town, followed by a busy work day that included a drive across the lake to the Primate Center.

This morning went quite a bit more smoothly, but when I met the group and noticed that Rob had his new TT bike up there (sorry, but these new TT bikes still look pretty goofy to me), I figured we were in trouble. When Chad and VJ rolled up, I knew it. Woody was there too, but I think he was still trying to recover from the traditional Herring Gas team's training camp that, as per usual, was held under freezing cold and unnaturally windy conditions. I think Bob Breck actually changed his forecast for the weekend when he found out it was the Herring training camp weekend. Anyway, as I'd expected, Rob eventually went to the front and ramped up the pace, with Chad and VJ following suit. I just couldn't resist the challenge of trying to get a draft off of Rob on his TT bike where his hands are, I swear, even with the top of his front tire. So I ended up having a pretty hard ride all the way out, but at least my legs were feeling better today. Although I never looked back, I knew the group was coming apart pretty early when the rotation at the front dropped down to just three of us. Fortunately, the return trip, at least the first part of it, was relatively easy and I had a chance to recover a bit. I stopped off at Zotz on the way back down Oak Street to refuel, and then, as I crossed Carrollton, I couldn't resist stopping to take a picture of the random "Who Dat" sign on the neutral ground.