Tuesday, September 8, 2015

Splat


This is me pre-mishap. It was a simpler time.
Let the record show that I understand that most accidents happen in the home. Let the record further show that I go out all the time incident-free. 

And yet my first coherent response was, "See? This is why I don't leave the house."

Let the record even further show that I don't leave the house because any movement makes my migraine pain worse. Not because of potential mishaps.

But still.

Have you had enough foreshadowing?

Since I'm sick so often, I don't do stuff. So when I heard that the famed outdoor food market Smorgasburg was relocating to a park only four subway stops from my apartment, I jumped at the chance to actually do a thing.

His Awesomeness & I packed up some blankets for sitting, met up with a friend (codename Elle) and moseyed on over.

There are dozens of stands, but we bought some amazing nachos at the first stand we got to and then went to sit and eat. They were so good that I may have them again the next time we go rather than try something new. 

Then we decided that HA would stay and guard the blankies and Elle & I would go get more food. But first, we went over here to throw out the container the nachos came in:
There were garbage cans in that triangle area.

That looks like a perfectly flat patch of land, doesn't it?
That painted line by the orange arrow? That is one deceptive line.
The lower red arrow is pointing to a painted line that indicates where the grass ends. It may not even be painted, but it does stand out. The higher red arrow points to painted lines that are meant to direct traffic. The orange arrow? That white line is a fucking curb.

Which I didn't see. And fell spectacularly. 

I was walking and then I was falling, completely unable to catch myself before I hit the ground, splayed out like a flying squirrel.

Falling in public will reaffirm your faith humanity while also embarrassing the fuck out of you. Four people got to me before Elle. (HA missed the whole thing because he was too busy Instagramming the picture at the top of this post. I will be teasing him about this for a very long time.) Someone picked up my glasses. People offered to help me up before someone helpfully asked if I wanted to rest for a moment before getting up. Someone put her wallet on the ground to help me get up. Someone else helped me get my purse off my shoulder so I could get up more easily - and didn't steal it. Someone got me a disinfectant wipe from one of the food stands, who later sent someone over with some paper towels. 

I've said it before and I'll say it again: New Yorkers aren't rude, we're in a hurry. I've fallen in the street while people were going to and from work, and they still stopped. Fall in NYC on a lazy Sunday afternoon and we'll go above and beyond the call.

Elle & I hobbled back to the blankets where I lied down for a bit. Because the whole thing made me feel faint, because of course it did. I cleaned myself up and after a bit, sent HA and Elle off to get more food while I contemplated my new case of road rash. 

Then I saw three firefighters hanging out looking very much like they were on standby. You may not know this, but all NYC firefighters are trained as First Responders. They can do everything an EMT can do except for splint fractures and deliver babies. So I knew these guys had access to a first aid kid. A big ol trauma bag with lots of lovely bandages to shield the worst of my abraded skin from the germapalooza that is the subway.

I texted and then called HA and asked him to speak to the firefighters. They came on over and radioed for the trauma bag. And then just stood around for a while waiting and being big tall handsome guys. As I've reached a certain level of maturity, I wasn't all tongue tied and embarrassed, trying to make small talk with the strapping young men. Instead I was embarrassed about my giant boo-boo.


Dignity? What's that?
 HA Instagrammed the above photo as well. Keeping it real.

Now it just stings because, unsurprisingly, skin doesn't like being rubbed off by pavement. My ankles and left shin are taking turns being all, "waiter! ice please!" It'll be a crappy couple of weeks while I heal. Unlike the last time I fell in the street, I don't think I caused any internal injuries. And my glasses are OK, which is miraculous because I've had them for less than a week, so of course they would get as scratched up as my hands and knees. But they didn't, I assume because my guardian angel knew my priorities and protected the pricey medical device.

(Which, how the hell did the health insurance industry get away with making eye glasses covered by a completely separate policy that not everyone can get? Because glasses are medically necessary. And contacts are often cheaper, and vision plans don't always cover them, which is just stupid. I suspect the whole thing was prompted by pandering to plan members who didn't want to pay for other people's glasses because they would never need glasses themselves even though most humans need reading glasses eventually and they've only been cheap for the past 10 years or so.)

So anyway. HA got us a BBQ pork chop sandwich, a pupusa/tamale/chorizo combo, donuts from Dough and strawberry smoothies. Smorgasburg is going to be every Sunday until mid-October, so we can try lots more yummies. Once I recover enough to sit on the ground and get up again.

Ultimately, I'm just glad I didn't fall while carrying those nachos.

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