oh what a night

April 6, 2009

The whole explanation as to why I’m walking with a collapsable wood-stained cane and ditching lectures would be best explained in a timeline breakdown of Sunday night/Monday morning and a revisit to late 90s movies featuring Will Friedle and Jennifer Love Hewitt (or both) about epic night-long misadventures like My Date With the President’s DaughterCan’t Hardly Wait, and Trojan War

3pm: Ride moped to beach house in Belmont Shore that I get paid to clean. Put sheets in washing machine. Relax and watch horrible VJs talk about how much they loved Monsters Vs. Aliens on CurrentTV.

8pm: Eric rides his bike over after work and helps me finish cleaning.

11:30pm: Done cleaning. Hungry. Ride our respective transportation devices to Legends and hope they’re still serving food.

11:45-12:30am: Food service is no more, but John and Simon are at the bar so we stay for some free girly shots and some scotch on the rocks. Plans are to ride home and cook a frozen pizza. mmm.

12:30am: Legends closes, so we leave. I start the moped and realize it’s idling pretty hard and the back wheel is spinning like crazy. I decide to try and stop it, which I have done before, when it wasn’t spinning so fast. I kick the tire a few times and it doesn’t slow down. Instead, it sucks my foot into the spokes and drags it with it into the chain and gear mechanism. With my foot getting ground into the moving parts of my beloved moped, I push it onto the ground and drag my foot out. A gash on my foot starts to pool with blood and I limp back into the bar and black out on the floor.

12:35am: I wake up with only half my hearing and all the barbacks, hosts and leftover drunk tourists trying to bandage up my foot. Some are laughing, thinking I’m being a pussy, but they stop the bleeding and put my shoe back on and send me on my way. I don’t start crying until I get outside. Eric starts the moped and I start riding home with my leg dangling off the side since the vibration hurts my fresh wound. 

12:45am: We’re on 2nd street near Mira Mar (where it starts getting residential and turns into a small hill that you can’t see over) and a guy and his blonde girlfriend are walking in the street. Jokingly, but in a “that’s not really funny” way, he pushes her more into the street, laughing as we get closer. Eric and I both swerve to avoid hitting this poor girl with the asshole boyfriend and when I look back to make sure she’s okay, I run into Eric’s back tire and fly off the moped. 

12:50am: More scratches, tons of bruises and road rash on the palms. I’m crying more now, pissed at our within-10-minutes-of-each-other double misfortune, trying to get the bike and moped out of the middle of the street while Eric jumps into alpha-male mode and goes after the idiot who made us crash. Eric pushes him down, he gets up and calls me a “drunk bitch” as he clocks my guy in the lip and the neighbors start coming out threatening to call the cops, which at this point, would genuinely be awesome. Eric comes back as oblivious-to-the-consequences-of-his-actions man escorts his equally as oblivious girlfriend into his Honda Civic and drives off with no apologies.

12:55am: Trying to regroup on the sidewalk. Realize that when the moped got knocked over after I fell off of it, the gas cap flew off and spilled gas in the street. The fender is also broken and a large chunk is taken out of both my front tire and Eric’s bike’s back one. Decide that we have to ride home. Hands are bloody, foot is swelling like a football, but at least the moped starts, so away we go. 

1:10am: Home. Eric assesses the foot gash and says he sees my tendons. It’s pretty deep and I am hysterical. I get thrown in the car and driven to the emergency room at Long Beach Memorial hospital, which we thought was on Long Beach Blvd., but is apparently on Atlantic.

1:30am: Sign in and get an official bracelet. “Yes I’m up to date on my tetanus shot.” Pain scale: 7. They say I should be seen by 2. Watch Law & Order, Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Charmed on the waiting room TVs. Crackheads and sick children trickle in.

4:30am: “Re assessment” of vital signs. Still waiting for a bed to open up. “Yes, I’m up to date on my tetanus shot.” Pain scale: 3 if my foot is not moving. 8 if I try to use it.

5:30am: Finally get escorted back and only two of the beds we pass are taken. I want to call shenanigans but am just  thankful that this is going to get taken care of. 

6:15am: They take off the bandage and when the air hits it, yeeeeouuuuch! I’m all set up and ready to get these damn stitches over with, but apparently there is no one in the hospital that wants to do the procedure. “Yes, I’m up to date on my tetanus shot.” Pain scale: 8.5. The male nurse tells me that the physicians assistants that normally do sutures aren’t on shift from 3am until 9am, so I should just hold tight—it might be a while. 

7:25am: Shift change! A doctor that hasn’t been at the hospital long enough to not give a shit about injured people agrees to sew me up. For the upteenth time: “Yes, I’m up to date on my tetanus shot.”

8:00am: Novacaine for the soul.

8:15am: Prognosis: The wound is deep but the tendons are intact. No foreign objects appear on the x-ray. I get four stitches and a doctor’s note excusing me from work and school for a few days.

9:00am: Receive final paperwork and hobble out into the sunlight. I have class in an hour. Yeah, not going to go to that.

9:15am: McDonald’s breakfast like I don’t care about my arteries. 

10:00am: Send out emails explaining why I can’t do anything today and finally stumble into bed.

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One Response to “oh what a night”

  1. Nadia (so did ya get the memo) said

    I know your writing is hilarious and witty, so I suggest you make this WHOLE endless night scenario into a movie because although the idea of watching Can’t Hardly Wait yet again makes me all warm n fuzzy inside, I would much rather see this on the big screen. Kudos to being a trooper and I do hope you managed to get all your parts back together – foot and moped included. Did you get to keep the cane at least? 🙂

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