Naima Pearce

I asked a woman out to dinner, to a place I’d been wanting to try. As is often the case with New York dates, we began talking logistics. The IKEA closest to me is a trek from my apartment. Hopping in a cab feels unadventurous when the Brooklyn behemoth painstakingly made sure it’s accessible by ferry. Without knowing this woman long enough to tempt a Gilligan’s Island-level fate, we chose the next best option: riding our bikes.