One Thursday in April I decided that since it was one of the first nice days of Spring, I'd skip spin and go rollerblading. I was going to be doing a rollerblade marathon in NYC in September, so I figured there was no better time to start training. I called up my friend, tied up our blades and we were on our way to rock and roll (no pun intended). I felt a little shaky but I was thinking "I got this" and then after a solid block of blading, I went down. Fucking hard. Hannah was a little bit ahead of me so when she turned around and bladed back to me she was like its ok let's just keep going. Then she rolled up my sleeve and saw this:
My wrist was a straight up noodle and was broken. We went to the emergency room, had to get escorted through a back door because all of the degenerates were mad that I was getting seen before them, got treated by 2 smoking hot doctors, and I went home with a cast that was as heavy as a bowling ball with word that I would need surgery the next week.
Surgery went fine, blah blah, I got some pretty sweet hardware in my arm (a plate and 8 screws)
What I also got that I didn't realize was an instant conversation starter. I was in a heavy cast & a sling for 2 weeks and then after that in a light, removable splint for 4. Even though I was in pain at first and had trouble doing simple tasks, the attention that my broken wrist got from guys made it all worth it. Apparently, guys have no shame in asking "what happened to you?" and apparently, telling them I was rollerblading made me seem like the coolest person ever. One guy told me it made me go up "10 points in his book," by my count that makes me about a 13.
With the splint now off and my wrist *almost* fully healed, I have no excuse to get sympathy from people. I could milk that shit and keep the splint on, but instead I'll move on and let the next cripple milk the attention as I weep into my hospital bills.
