First of all Happy Birthday to my loyal reader and bestie, Heidi!!!
I think my mom actually jinxed October for me by texting me to “stay safe and keep ER trips to a minimum.” I should warn you though because as you read this I’m sure you’ll ask yourself how does this happen? But let me remind you this is the same girl who said the wrong confirmation name (I’m stuck with Virgina for the rest of my life) and the same one who almost got stuck in Mexico illegally (I’m still missing a shoe from that one).
|Good thing I washed the bruise off before the ER|
My coworkers and I had been planning a Halloween cruiser ride in Denver for almost the entire month of October, the route, the bars, the costumes. I wanted to go as Ke$ha but the group wanted to do a Zombie theme so I combined the two and ended up more like Domestic Abuse Ke$ha than Zombie Ke$ha (but more on that later). The day before I found one of the mechanics, Owen* to ride on the tandem bike with me, he offered to drive which is great because as Wayne will tell you I’m not the best tandem driver even when I’m sober (in my defense it was just a small tree we ran into). I brought the tandem into work along with some amazing Halloween cupcakes, pumpkin with cream cheese frosting and mocha chocolate chip with vanilla bean frosting (I’ve been in a bake off with my manager).
|The re-vamped tandem|
The guys in the shop really transformed the bike putting better handlebars, brakes, and a new seat and even outfitting it with stickers and little plastic babies (don’t ask). One of the best upgrades was moving the rear brake to the back handlebars on the left side, so it makes for a little more adventurous riding. Owen offered his floor space for people in Boulder to sleep on so we wouldn’t have to worry about driving home. Six of us met at his house to change, get ready and pregame (which is apparently not needed as much once you’re out of college). Anyways we got to the first bar and met up with the other 15 people who were already there. Well because of Owen’s costume (he went as Thor but didn’t realize they made adult size costumes) he didn’t have any place to put his ID or debit card. I put it with mine in my “Greece” clutch and put it in my purse along with my camera, glitter (I was Ke$ha), phone and almonds (a great way to ward off a hangover). Well after a few drinks at the bar I went up with a few other girls to take a shot when I asked someone to take our picture and at the same moment dropped the “Greece” clutch (which I only realized after getting to the 2nd bar and not being able to get in). At the 2nd bar not being able to get in and not knowing where the wallet was, Owen went back tot eh first bar to look for it and I offered almonds to anyone who might be able to produce my ID. No luck for either of us; and Owen took me back to his house to get his passport and put me on house arrest. Owen said that if I left he would never forgive me for leaving his house unlocked in Downtown Denver. Well what is a girl on house arrest to do except cook or clean? I did think about watching TV but being a girl renders me incapable of working more than 1 remote. Since we had made such a mess pregaming I figured I would do the dishes and then move onto the living room. I start washing and not two glasses in, one breaks on the counter. I manage to get my arm cut on loose piece, it’s not too bad, kinda bleeding but it doesn’t seem deep. I rig up a band aid out of cocktail napkins and get the blood to start clotting. I keep washing and do a pretty good job until I’m down to the last two plates. I move one over to the drying rack (which is much closer to the sink than mine) and manage to knock out not only a glass but a shot glass as well. The glass drops and shatters into the sink while the shot glass bounces once on the counter, once into the sink and then tumbles down the drain. Without thinking, I immediately reach in after it, like it would disappear if I didn’t grab it right away and cut my right arm on the way down. This one is a little deeper, some of the white fatty tissue is sticking out but I don’t have my wallet to walk to Albertson’s and get some band aids. I do my best to control the blood but it’s a losing battle. Every time I would wipe one drop up it seemed the other cut would bleed more out onto the floor creating a positive feedback cycle. I’m just glad I didn’t pass out because I was very anemic that day. I didn’t know really to do at this point so I decided to shower and at least keep the blood in one place and wash my make up off. After I get out the bleeding stops and I’m able to clean up the kitchen (or at least I think I do, Owen later tells me that I left blood everywhere). About and hour or so later Owen and his roommate come back after having one of the pedals on the tandem fall off and having to take a cab home. Owen thinks my cuts are pretty bad and maybe it’s all the time I’ve spent at hospitals (interning, not being a patient) but after no band aids are to be found I receded and to go the ER with him. Apparently when you show up with more than 1 cut and a boy they start assuming domestic abuse. It definitely didn’t help that my body was covered in bruises from running into things and mountain bike falls. I think they found it hard to believe that I had hit the coffee table that many times. They actually sent Owen home and told me I could call him when they were done. Since my cuts weren’t life threatening it took them about 6 hours to attend to me, and after 4 the nurse finally realized that Owen and I were not dating and she became a lot nicer about the situation. I got my stitches and called Owen to come get me. Then we had to go track down the tandem because the pedal fell off and the backseat was wobbly, so they locked it up on Colfax. Which is a pretty long street but I’m pretty sure Wayne would have killed me if I didn’t bring it home. Luckily we found it and it wasn’t in too bad of shape, besides the missing pedal and the wobbly seat. I made Owen the rainbow cake after breaking 3 of his glasses, getting blood all over his house and almost getting him charged with domestic abuse, it was the least I could do.
|Eat your heart out Martha Stewart.|
My mom texted me that morning and asked “How was last night, did you have fun? Any trips to the ER?” I check the time and saw that she would be walking into church so I said “Super fun, and only a couple stitches.”
|Not the same as riding through a herd of Buffalo|
Since then I haven’t had any other major spills just your typical run into the desk, dresser and car door. But I’ve done more bike rides this month than in October. And I’m seriously considering putting in for the lottery for the Leadville 100 Mountain Bike Race, which is at 12,000 feet. So between my asthma and prone-ness to altitude sickness I might just die. But it would at least be a great way to go. Our house is right by some trails which makes it super easy to get out and ride. Yesterday was my third day in a row going. The first two days were pretty uneventful. But yesterday I went into a corner to fast and fishtailed on the way out and since my right leg isn’t as strong as my left still I couldn’t pull the bike back to the right and instead went careening off the trail hitting a rock and flipping over the handlebars. I scrapped up my knee, shin, back and bum and bent my front brake lever. I get up brush myself off and keep riding and what do you know but half a mile later I come within centimeters of running over a snake. The nice thing about mountain biking is there usually aren’t a lot of people around so no one could hear my shouting that “It wasn’t funny the first 17 times and it’s still not funny now.” End of November and I still have to put up with it. Geeze Louise.
*Names have been changed because my parents have done background checks on boys for far less.
**Our mechanics are quiet qualified. I was the one who put the backseat on which is why it probably came loose. Don’t worry the mechanics barely let me touch my own bike, let a lone costumers.