Everything was going according to plan. Therefore, I knew something must be wrong. The fundraisers were fundraising, we were officially approved as an official partner, the weather called for was ideal for a ride.
We had awesome sponsors: Spotify, DG Mediamind, F#, and 33Across who made our jerseys look really, really cool…
Until I got the e-mail: “Tim, your jerseys… they’re in Ohio. You won’t have them in time for the tour, sorry.” End e-mail.
At that point, I had to be on location for an event that we had been planning for weeks for my regular job, so there was nothing I could do until Saturday.
Mayhem… trying to find a means of making a replacement jersey in under 24 hours was now the task at hand. It was all hands. I woke up, and within ten minutes, we had four people manning phones and laptops searching for the solve. I was working through our list and proxy forms and figuring out who was riding where, what bibs I was picking up from the event, sorting how we were gonna deliver bikes. Suffice to say, I felt like a candidate running for office, and it was election day.
Oh, did I mention we were having a Kentucky Derby Party on the roof for some reason that afternoon?
Miraculously, two friends of the Foundation, one in California and one in New Orleans, texted me that they had both spoken to a shop in Park Slope who could accommodate our request and would be able to print our shirts provided we had our artwork in by noon. It was 11:45.
Some quick Photoshop work, and we were off to the “Proverbial Races” pun intended. It was then time to hop in the car and pick up the packets. Easy? Should be. Was it? Nope. Dodging and weaving cars and crowds, and the parking lot cost $20 to park our car to pick up the packets, was testing my patience.
I am a patient person. A very patient person. I was three more human traffic jams away from not being so patient anymore.
Texts were rolling in, and people were arriving at my apartment for the Kentucky Derby Party. I was at least two hours out at my current pace from being home. At this point, I wasn’t gonna be making the race.
Around 4:00, the first bit of good news came in: Ghost was en route to pick up our freshly-printed shirts… success! The traffic led us to hop off the FDR, but packets had been procured so we were at least one step closer, and it dawned on me that we were close to our App studio office (near the start line for the event). Best bet was: dump car bikes, packets in the parking garage, take the express back up to the apartment.
We probably saved two hours with that little move.
As I sat on my roof top sipping my first mint julip of which three separate batches of Simple Syrup were made by three different parties. A person walks up to me, one of the neighbors friends: “Hi, I’m _______, so how are you connected with this party?”
I smiled, taking a sip. “Ummm, it’s my apartment,” I chuckled. Fashionably late to my own party. A mint julip never tasted so good.
