Thursday, August 23, 2007

A Pattern, perhaps?

Yesterday's post got me to thinking...well, that and yesterday's beers on the porch and watching the colleges move back in...about other times that involved porches, rain, and beer. Shut up about recurring themes here. A long long time ago in a galaxy far far away, I was in college with my best friends from home and a few new guys who mostly fit right in with us. We were in Morgantown, WV at WVU (Go 'Eers!), the land of afternoon drinking. Speaking of which, WVU is rated as the No. 1 Party School this year again! Way to get back up there guys!! Anyway, I digress. We were sitting on the porch watching it rain and ran out of beer. This being college, money wasn't readily available to us. One guy, however, had parents that were loaded. We didn't ever bum money from him, but if he offered to buy something, we didn't say no. Anyway, we were bemoaning the fact that he had the only fake ID and all the cash and that he should go down the hill and buy us some beer. Milwaukee's Best Light I believe was the fare of choice that day...and by that day, I mean most days. I was so happy when I finally got a job and could buy good beer and I haven't looked back since. I'll eat Ramen noodles to avoid going back to the Beast. He said he would go get it, but that we'd have to earn it. He bet us a 12 pack each (a whopping $10 now that I think about it) if my buddy and I would streak up the road in the rain to the stop sign and back. Eh, screw it, I thought...it's free beer...and we'd already had several at this point...So, we sent Ritchie (named for the county he came from...he never said a town name, just that he was from Ritchie County. Maybe they didn't have towns there.) to scan the street and make sure no one was coming at the time back from class or anything and up the 45 stairs to the street we went. Well, good old reliable Ritchie forgot to mention that the hot neighbor girl was sitting on her porch too. With her dogs. Big dogs. They started barking and made like they were coming to the street after us, at which point my buddy chickened out and went back inside. Not me, man. I wanted that sweet Beast. Besides, I was already almost to the stop sign. I spun around at the stop sign and that's where it all went bad. My worn out shoes couldn't hold up to the flood washing down the hill (everything out there is on a hill) and down I went...SMACK....right on my left hand/side. As long as nothing important hit the pavement, I didn't care at this point. Shaking it off (literally, I suppose) I hauled ass back to the house to find everyone there laughing that gasping, silent laugh and pointing and wheezing and I'm pretty sure trying not to piss their pants. I hastily dress and dispatch the guy to the store, because holy shit, I need a drink. It was about this time that I noticed my hand really hurt. Eh, no matter. It's just a bruise, it'll go away. Besides, here came my 12 pack up the hill. Later that night, my hand got more and more sore and started to look like someone had shoved a baseball under the skin. Damn....I put ice on it, held cold beers against it, anything I could do to try to alleviate the swelling. To no avail. I figured it would go away the next day. Nah. It got worse. And worse. Finally on day 4, I gave up and went to the hospital. You guessed it. I had shattered my knuckle and the bone under it. There was nothing they could do at this point because I'd waited 4 days to come in. He asked how I did it...I said I slipped on the stairs coming down to the house. What was I going to say? It was obvious from the road burn on it that that wasn't the fact, but still. He taped my fingers together and gave me some pills for the swelling and a nice fat bill for $500 that the insurance didn't cover. I told my mom and dad the same story about the stairs, but I don't think they bought it either. That was the most expensive beer ever. Even moreso than the $14 Guinness at the Pig and Whistle up there in NYC. To this day, I still have a little scar and my middle finger on my left hand doesn't work quite right....But, ah, the sweet Beast made it all ok......

2 comments:

Mortarbored said...

Nothing more about the hot neighbor? I was really hoping she was a nurse...

Milwaukee's Best...[shudder]

Ha Ha Sound said...

Ouch, dude. Sorry to hear that. And how sucky about your insurance not covering that. The bastards.

If it makes you feel any better, I have four toes that I can't bend. I've broken a few over the years and just not bothered to have them set.