Well There's Your Problem

I'm sure I've told most of you about this already so you'll have to wait until the next time I put pen to paper, or, uh, fingers to keyboard, for something original. Last Sunday I had a little mishap. It happened after I had spent a few hours at the bar having discussions about various monumentally important topics such as cars, guns, and baseball. Around 10 I noticed the place was starting to fill in with frat-house douchebags.. so I decided it was probably time to go home.

But how? I hadn't driven (wisely,) it was way too far to walk, and I didn't feel like waiting for the bus... wait, one of my bicycles is chained to a street light nearby. Ok, so I've got my bike, and I've managed to drive it across campus and down this huge hill. At the bottom of the hill I turned onto the Burke-Gilman trail, which leads directly toward my apartment. Nice, I'm on the trail...

So this is where things get fuzzy. The next thing I know I'm laying sprawled out, face-up in the middle of the trail. There's a group of people standing around me in a circle, wondering what to do. "Do you want us to call an ambulance?" "Shit no! I'm fine!" I was lying. Upon trying to get back on the bike and drive it home I noticed that my left arm wasn't working. Hmm. Then I decided to walk the bike home. After a quarter mile or so of that I gave up and called my roommate who took me to hospital.

The ER. Just like I left it in 2005. They gave me a CT scan and a few x-rays and after waiting until the shift-change I was finally informed that I had broken my clavicle (collar bone) neatly in half. The doctor walked in, tossed the X-ray at me, pointed at the obviously broken bone, and says "well there's your problem." Funny guy.

What's not so funny is being in an ER late on Sunday night. There's no good tv on, the nurses aren't all that talkative, and the doctor won't let me play freecell on his computer. Damnit. According to the doctor I had to stay until the test results came back - namely the blood alcohol test, and I didn't pass until it was below .08.

So finally at 6AM they released me on my own recognizance, er, under my own supervison, onto the streets of Seattle's U district. Neat. Oxycodone, even neater.