Heroism in the Face of Certain Doom

Today, I crashed on my bike.

And it

was

AWESOME.

          Don’t get me wrong. My knee is killing me. I can’t straighten my leg and put any amount of pressure on it without squealing in pain like a 6-year old, but still. I should get a medal or something.

          There I was, riding my bike back from rehearsal, going no faster than normal – if anything, I was, in fact, going at least half the speed I usually go. I round an incredibly dangerous corner, complete with tripwire explosives

Tripwire explosives.

automated machine guns

Automated Machine Guns

and stinging nettles.

Stinging Nettle

          Have no fear, random obscure reader who stumbled across this blog by accident while misspelling the word “breast”, I usually make it through this incredibly volatile gauntlet with the greatest of ease. Picture a small child, frolicking through the meadow. I am the hunter on his deer stand, scoffing at that child’s naiveté. At least, I am when it comes to this particular corner on campus.

          As I approached this area, I battened down the hatches and leaned into the corner. It was just like any other day. With one alarming exception.

          Right at the start, surrounded by the alligators that usually reside in the moat at the end of the gauntlet, stood an anxious-looking mother.

And a stroller. With triplets in it.

And a dog.

          What was I to do? Without a moment’s hesitation, I bailed. I squeezed the brakes with all the strength in my fingertips, and when that wasn’t enough, I threw myself and my bike to the ground, losing a shoe and (the other) half of my hair in the process. And oh yeah, the lower half of my left leg rotated outwards with a forceful pop. It rattled my bones (that was for you, Brandon).

          

          I got back up, and once the insane amount of artery lacerations were repaired with an expertly steady hand and some barbed wire, the mother and her three children thanked me with celebratory Oreo Cheesecake shakes from Sonic, America’s Drive-In and a $20 gift card to Linens ‘n’ Things.

          Once the high from purchasing new decorative centerpieces and an alarm clock wore off, I noticed a faint irritation. An irritation most would consider alarming. I went to the emergency room, and they said it’s fine as far as they’re concerned, but they gave me a bionic leg anyway. So I am going to be the best gosh-darned dancing bear there ever was. And it’s all thanks to my daring bravery. As I said, I should get a medal.

(He allows himself to hang a moment, suspended in his own verisimilitude.)

          Sigh. I took a corner too wide, leaned into the turn more to avoid hitting a fence, therefore ruining my $5 bike, and hit the ground instead, ruining my left knee.

          At least there were a couple of ESU maintenance guys on a red gator who saw me hit. They said it looked pretty awesome. Courtney Romero and Nathan Short said the same. (I will be signing autographs and taking photos later this week.)

          Nevertheless, as Christopher Marlowe once said, the show must go on. It’s very possible that Evan Eisenbarth will be the World’s Greatest Dancing Bear, and I will be the Ringmaster, all pending an MRI in the next couple days. If that’s the case, go get ‘em boy-o. I know you’ll kill it.

For those of you who don't know, this is what happens with stinging nettles.