stuntman anyone?

I'm not a fan of crashing, whether its from a major sugar high working graveyard or literally taking a somersault down a black diamond trail. In spite of my multiple failed battles with gravity I'm happy to report that my limbs are all still intact. Unlike Jules Winnfield who decided to give up the booky profession after being shot at several times, I still have not learned from my mistakes. Once I borrowed my friend's bicycle and used it to get to church. I was running late, so I was booking it down a busy tourist packed street. No I didn't hit any cars, I was pretty good about watching out for them. There was however a jam down the road. In consequence, I decided to switch to the less congested sidewalk. While attempting to jump my front tire off the road to get over the curb, my front tire detaches from the forks while in mid-air. Now in those few nano-seconds before actual impact I had two thoughts.  The first; "you fool, you forgot to secure the tire to the forks after getting it out of the trunk of your friend's car," While suspended in air for about a second and a half, I knew I was in for a world of hurt. Then the second thought came into play; "Oh crap I don't have any health insurance." Then SMACK. I bit the curb and saw a bright flash, didn't black out though. . . at least I think I didn't. I got up looking like something from a zombie movie with bloody scratches and torn clothes and to complete the look I now limped. Luckily I wasn't craving brains, more like a quick fix to the situation. A guest from a hotel nearby saw the whole thing and ran hysterically to me. While cupping my mouth I asked him his opinion about how bad it all looked.  In a southern drawl he replied, "Oh you're definitely gonna need stitches, no doubt abou' dat," Curses! I knew it. I reattached the wheel then with one hand covering my Phantom of the Opera-ness of a face biked my way to the hospital. Arriving there, I asked trying to appear as casual as ordering a number 4 at a drive thru; "Um, can I get the emergency room please." The receptionist looking a little disturbed directed me to the nearest doctor. It came down to 12 stitches on my upper lip. Getting home was the best part. For one I worked at a hotel complex. Two, they offered employment housing in the basement of the main building. Thirdly, my boss heard about my accident and being the sweet lady that she is, came by my door to try to visit me with a plate of cookies. I was in bed and due to my elephant man appearance, didn't really want any social interaction for the time being. There was a knock at the door; "Marquez? Are you there?" she asked in a high pitched motherly voice. I refrained from answering but just waited it out. "I just wanted to see if you were alright. I'll just leave these cookies here for you." As monstrous as I was feeling, she may as well have said "I'll just leave this bucket of fish heads for you". She left and three seconds later the door opened and my eyes squint out of the crack in the door, through the darkness and my hand pulls in the plate. It's funny the chain of events that take place from a small screw not being tightened enough. I did get a pretty cool scar out of it though, but crashing is no bueno.