I set out home from the Pub last night, following the same routine I always do: wrap the chain around the stem and lock the lock on so it dangles to the side of the bike. As I took off, I made a wide s-swerve down the street like I like to do and noticed the lock had shifted to behind the headset, preventing the handlebars from turning properly. “I should fix that at the next intersection” I think to myself. However, the next intersection has a taxi cab entering it from the right hand side and I instictively attempt to turn to avoid it. Since my bars can’t turn, I tried to force it a bit and the lock popped loose and the front wheel spun around perpendicular to the proper travel of the bicycle, throwing me over the bars where I landed in the middle of the intersection square on my left shoulder; breaking my collarbone, dislocating my shoulder, tearing a muscle in my leg and generally making a spectical of myself.

It was totally my fault, as I was going down St. Ann the wrong way, but the cab driver could have at least stopped and ask me if I was OK before he left the scene, rolling over my glasses.

I crawled out of the street, dragging my bike behind me and collapsed on the doorstep of Moon Wok where I began to realise my shoulder was in bad shape. Stumbling into Good Friends, I stepped up to the first guy I see and in a calming tone I say, “Excuse me, could I ask a favor of you? I just flipped over my handlebars and I think I dislocated my shoulder. Could you help me lock up my bike while I call 911?” To which he replies, “Are you going to kill me?”

What the fuck?

I went to the tent hospital’s ER at the Convention Center and got taken good care of after being treated like total shit by the EMT/Ambulance drivers. The docs told me that I had broken my collarbone and may have dislocated my shoulder and should expect several days of the worst pain imaginable and 6 weeks of recovery. Joy. The guy in the partition next me me repeatedly called the nurse a bitch, and dared her to hurt him after giving him morphine for his police-dog bites, “Yeah bitch, make it hurt. I cant feel anything, make it hurt bitch. Yeeeaaah, give me that needle. Stick it in, you fucking bitch.”

Part of me was hoping to see a cute male-nurse I met at the Pub a couple of weeks ago, but no luck. Probably for the best.

Anyway, I get drugs tomorrow and I just want to get to bed tonght.