I'm not doubting the way it feels to [bad word] the streets at night on training wheels but when your helmet starts to pinch you know it's time to call it quits. You are a parody on parade, so engrossed in your own joke that you forgot to laugh and there's something bittersweet about that. And now you've got a bunch of innocent people riding the Chinatown bus around, and you're the captain. No air. No AC. Most your passengers were just walking down the street when they were captured. And it's all about climbing into a paper bag and finding your way out. If you never tried to sell yourself short, chances are you can breathe independently. Iron lungs are no fun, are they? After hours of nothing, nothing's biting because your bait is rotten. Waiting in line to [bad word] an item.