Once upon a time, I worked for an exclusive, understated consulting firm that hosted an annual holiday party for the staff and a select few friends. One year, Mr. Unfolded decided to enliven this exclusive, understated event by bringing Don King. (Mr. U. negotiates boxing contracts.)
Don* was accompanied by Isadore, his longtime valet and bodyguard. The room was warm, so I offered to take Isadore’s bulky jacket. He smiled. “No thanks, ma’am, I’d best keep it on.” Riiiiight.
I thought of Isadore recently. Shortly after picking up Monty, I stopped at Bicycle Habitat to buy a lock. (Hal Ruzal, the shop’s co-founder, likes to poke fun at cyclists’ lame bike-locking practices.) The nice salesguy looked puzzled. “But…you have a Brompton. Why would you need a lock??” He humored me, selecting several locks and demonstrating how each was at best a minor hindrance to a dedicated thief. He asked if I had ever been refused entry to an establishment while toting a folded B. When I said no, he advised me to take Monty everywhere. “And if anyone gives you an argument, go elsewhere.”
So I’m going to be like Isadore. When I’m packin’ Monty, nothing and no one is coming between us. No lock required.
*Don was the hit of the party, to the surprise of all but Mr. Unfolded.