Let's examine this tragedy a little closer:

Saturday morning was a glorious slice of the weekend, full of sunshine, eggs over easy, and far too many Pacificos with some of my closest hungover friends.  After a few minutes of pestering a friend following our early morning alcohol consumption, said friend agreed to take us the length of 24th to Dolores Park in the back of a beat up mid-90s pickup truck.  So armed with some “tomato juices” in to-go cups an area bar fixed for us, we were in the back of the truck and on our way.

While making our way down Valencia, we figured it would be kind and neighborly to dish out drinks to passing cyclists.  The handoff was perfect: a moderate approach to the back of the truck, an extended arm, a firm grab of the bottom of the cup, and the drink is onto the next one.

As the truck barreled down 19th towards the decadence of Dolores Park, the rider took a hearty swig from the juice, proving hangover elixirs and two wheels mix just fine.

But what happened next confounds even the most seasoned cyclists.  Perhaps too many hipster cliches at once threw off his balance because as the thirsty rider attempted to return his right hand to the handlebar, the bike leaned left, foreshadowing a sick biff with the tormented concrete below.

In a desperate attempt to save the beverage from the impending wreckage, the cyclist lunged the drink back towards the truck.  A Herculean effort, no doubt, but Starbucks cups are not known to survive the crushing force of failure.

And splash.

Wayfarer privileges revoked.