The good news is that Morgan took 8th. On the Mielgeot. I brought home 11th and a gift cert to OCB, despite an unscheduled off-course excursion on the wrong side of Terminal Ave and a "fuck it, it's nice out, let's just take the scenic route" jaunt through Stanley Park with Adam. Which turned into "Ayo, y'all finna tear up that durrrtay-durrtay, son?"
The bad news is that Morgan's clavicle ain't lookin' so hot. Oh, snap. I suppose I shouldn't mention that there were ramps at the afterparty, too.
Shadow pretty much summed it up:
"I'm not a fake courier, I'm a fucking BMXer."
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