Bike of Shame Busted

nice shirtBack when I lived in Dupont Circle, I was sitting on the stoop one Sunday morning when my neighbor crawled out of a cab. On the phone to a friend, I started laughing and told my friend that the neighbor was doing a walk of shame. My neighbor denied it at first, claiming she was just coming from church. With a laugh, I cut her alibi to shreds with the simple: “That skirt is a little too short, and those heels a little too high for church, my dear.”

Crimson-faced, she fled up the steps, only to return a while later with beers and a smile. Laughing, she recounted her night of debauchery and we bonded over shared walk of shames worldwide. From then on, whenever we ran into each other around town, we’d call each other “Walk of Shame” and laugh about our recent exploits.

I haven’t seen her in almost a year now, since I’ve moved to Mt Pleasant and she moved to NoVA. Then, just now I got an email from her:

"Random question: were you riding your bike up Columbia Road this morning around 6:45 or was that some other Bike of Shame fool?"

Ouch! Busted! And now I’m left to wonder what she was doing in Adams Morgan, up so early, and watching me.

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