Editor’s note: the following is a part of our Shallot series. All content is unbelievably fake.
Rex Lexington stands facing the rain-soaked streets, eyes squinting and watchful as he surveys the scene. It’s a Wednesday afternoon, Lexington’s busiest time. He’s dressed in his usual outfit; a tight black shirt, black jeans and black work boots. He’s an intimidating sight, but that’s his job. Lexington is the school’s resident bike-rack bouncer, and he takes his job very seriously.
“I’ve been in the security business for about 35-odd-years now,” Lexington said. “Aside from the stints in prison, it’s been a pretty steady gig.”
Lexington, who looks like he could be in his 40s but refuses to acknowledge his actual age, said he started out as a bouncer for an underage dance club in Moose Jaw, his hometown in Saskatchewan, Canada. Then, in the 1980s, he moved to Hollywood to become a bodyguard for the stars. He went on to secure the premises of celebrities such as Mel Gibson and Betty White until an altercation with Morgan Freeman’s limo driver forced him out of celebrity bodyguarding. Since then, Lexington said he’s been to jail more than a dozen times, though he claims to have forgotten when and where these convictions occurred.
“Let’s just say I’ve probably broken every law there in damn near every state,” Lexington said with a knowing grin.
Nowadays, however, Lexington said he’s on a whole new path — all thanks to a position he was offered earlier this year by the University. Lexington was living in Portland at the time and was contacted by school officials, who asked him if he would be willing to become the University’s first bike-rack bouncer. They explained to Lexington that his job would entail standing at specific racks during specific times of the day and seeing that the spaces are “being utilized appropriately,” as he explained.
Lexington begins his day at 7 a.m., when he makes his first rounds around campus. Lexington said he records the placement of every bike on every rack, specially noting whether they’re fixed gear or not. As students arrive, Lexington stands on or near the curb of the bike-racks, starting with the stretch down University Street. As students and faculty approach, Lexington said he’ll stare at each person for “five, maybe six seconds … at least until they’re noticeably uncomfortable.” Once their bikes are secured, Lexington will ask them various questions, which he said are based on each biker’s appearance.
“If they’ve got their right pant-leg rolled up or they’re packing serious-looking fenders, then I just kind of let them go,” Lexington said. “But if you’re coming to my racks wearing unrolled pants and you don’t have a bike rack … that’s when I have to start exercising my power.”
Lexington will often allow students with fixed gear bikes to lock their bike up before others, claiming that he’s “just rewarding the kids who actually take their transportation seriously.”
In the months that he’s been stationed on campus, students have already begun making numerous attempts to assuage Lexington’s daily questions and preferential treatment. Junior Louis Shoman, who started out the year riding to school on his new mountain bike, recently bought a used Schwinn cruiser because he felt it would help him get better placement at the racks.
“Before I was always stuck using the racks by Gerlinger, even when I had classes on the complete other side of campus,” Shoman said. “Since I put on the front basket and started wearing my spandex biking suit, Rex always hooks me up with a prime spot.”
There are those who refuse to budge, however. Senior Eric Weinberg said he’s been biking in Eugene too long to be profiled by Lexington.
“I’ll ride in on my Trek mountain bike, wearing a helmet and all that, and he won’t even let me by,” Weinberg said. “It’s ridiculous! I just want a place to park my bike.”
Despite any criticisms, Lexington stays firm in his bike-rack values. He said he’ll continue upholding the rules of the University to the best of his abilities.
Although sometimes it’s tough being the only bike-rack bouncer on campus, Lexington believes himself to be more than capable.
“They’re everywhere and they’re quick,” he said, looking over 13th Avenue with a tightened jaw. “But I’m quicker.”
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