Friday May 23rd, 2008

I was in a motorcycle accident today.   

I'm okay.  I bit bruised, battered and bewildered but okay.  

I picked up my new pair of glasses on 14th street and went to talk with some friends on the corner of 19th and 7th avenue and left them with the intention of going to get something to eat at Rickshaw's on 23rd and 6th.  There was no parking available outside the eatery so I decided to go home by taking 1st Avenue all they way to the Bruckner Expressway.  

Traffic was a mess going down 1st Ave.  People were in a hurry to get out of the city or get home to start the three day weekend.  I got to the 90s without incident but at 94th street there was heavy breaking and screeching of tires on my left (I was in the middle lane) and the car directly behind the heavy screeching car jams his break to avoid the car that stopped short in front of him.  Unfortunately he wasn't stopping in time and swerves into my lane to avoid hitting the car in front of him.  I swerve to avoid him, he hits me, the bike goes skidding away from me off to who knows where.  I go flying banging my head against the ground the sliding along my right side then my back finally ending up against the curb on 94th and 1st Avenue.  My knee hurt and I had a little bit of road rash but other than that I knew I was fine.  

Before I could get up there were not one but two nurses there on the scene.  One just happened to be a specialist in neurosurgery who gave me a complete once over while lying in the street.  The other checked my pulse and limbs to make sure that nothing was broken.  The was also a first responder on the scene who also contributed to my care.  I couldn't have been in better hands.  EMT and NYPD were on the scene straightaway.  

Spent the next 4.5 hours in the hospital.  X-rays of neck came back fine.  They gave me Motrin for the banged up knee (I'm sure it will be killing me tomorrow) and some bacitracin ointment for the slight road rash on my shoulder and back.  

I asked the nurses (the ones on the street) if anyone was hurt when the motorcycle went flying.  She assured me that no one way.  Thank God.  No gas leak or anything either.  Still don't know the extent of the damage.  The engine should be fine as I have engine guards on the bike.   I'm just pissed that now I have to deal with insurance and police reports and hospital charges and the like.  Fortunately everything should be covered.  

I had the police call my sister Sharon who in turned called the rest of the family.  My brother Rob was the first to show up followed by my sisters Donna and Sharon and Sharon's boyfriend Rick.  I'm glad they showed up.  I sent them all home because it looked like I would be there for a while while they decided when they were going to send me to Xray to check my neck and I didn't want them to waste their time since I wasn't bleeding and dying and a low priority to the hospital staff.  They all left accept Donna.  She insisted on staying.  I'm glad she did.  We had a good time talking, making friends with the other infirm and stealing hospital supplies.  What!  (I need hospital masks for my visit to China. And yes I'm still going.)   

Finally I told a nurse that I was going to leave because I had had enough and shortly after my doctor came over telling me that the xrays were fine and I could leave.  Take Motrin as needed, get rest and come back if I have a headache that won't go away.  Okay, but who's going to pay for the shirts that were cut off me?  

As an aside:  I come across motorcyclists in every situation that I'm in (special hello to LN in Cary) and this situation was no exception.  So as I'm laying on the gurney in the ER the cop who rode in the ambulance with me and the EMT tells me that he likes my boots.  Now these were my brand new motorcycle boots that I'm wearing outside for the second time.  Admittedly they are nice boots but not all leather.  So as I'm laying there in obvious pain from my knee and he's going on about how nice they are.  "Thank you", I say.  "Where'd you get them", he says.  "I got them online at a motorcycle store.  Can't... remember...(sharp in-take of air because of knee pain)...the name though."  He's looking at me expectantly.  "Yeah...it's not coming (adjust the neck brace I'm wearing)...not coming to me."  "Oh okay."  he says dejectedly.  I'm like "do a google search on motorcycle boots.  The store is a bike name store it should be one of the sponsored links."  Then all of a sudden I hear Whitney Houston singing in my head and I remember.  I blurt out Whitney something or other.     "JC Whitney Mr. Police man", I say "J.C. Whitney.com I got them there."  He brightens up.  My work here is done people.

So I'm okay.  I'll check on my bike in the morning.  Hope that I can still ride it.  Yes, I plan on riding.  This hasn't deterred me from riding in the least.  I will consider giving up my bike if and only if my brother gets me that sports car he thinks I should drive instead of riding a motorcycle.  I know he won't do this so it looks like I'll continue riding.  

I'm hoping that I can still salvage this long weekend without too much pain.  

P.S. I did not have any alcohol in my system prior to the accident.  I met my friends outside the bar they had just left.  I was not drinking.  Just want to go on the record saying that.  

Have a great Memorial Weekend everyone.  - Wil

 

Pictures

Finally, as promised here are some photos that I took while in Biloxi.

These are some of the chainsaw sculptures that are along Beach Blvd. These used to be Live Oak trees. The root system is still below ground.

Last day on the construction site:

Notice the water line! Can you imagine?:

Here's the outdoor showers:

Here's my room:

- Wil

...and then some

I haven't been able to summarize my time in the south in the written word.  Oh, I've been able to talk about it at length enough, but every time I've tried to do the same in written form I've failed miserably.  So I'm not going to try to sum it up any more.

My friend Stone, Conway Stone asked me if I got what I expected out of my time volunteering.  My answer is a resounding YES and then some.  

Sorry that I have this writer's block where I can't sum it all up.  Maybe in some other post.  For now know that the work was rewarding and I wouldn't have changed it for the world.  I'll be back in Biloxi at some point to help out again.  It may be in the winter or next spring but I'll be back.  There so much to do.  

This blog will continue as I travel to China and South East Asia.  My travels start on June 28th but I'll continue blogging about life, family, friends and my prep for this upcoming trip.  

Thanks for reading.  - Wil

Dorothy said

Thomas Wolfe wrote You Can't Go Home Again, I'm sure I don't agree with this book's title rather I'd say you can go home again but there no guarantee that everything will be as u left it.  

I arrived home last Thursday with the intention of surprising the mothers in my family on mother's day.  I was going to lay low until the Mother's Day celebration at Harlem Chappell's brownstone on Saturday.  We were celebrating a day earlier because...well I don't really know why we were, but we were.  The intention was to just show up on my motorcycle around 630pm at the HCs (Harlem Chappells) and be the mother's day gift for my mom home safe and sounds after a month on the road.  This was the intent but first I had to get into my building without bumping into any of the Bronx Chappells (BCs).  This was going to be tricky since my sister and her kids live in the building directly across the courtyard from me and if they saw my lights on they'd know I was home.  I'd cross that bridge when I get to it.  First I just had to get into the building.  

I parked my bike in its space and took in the neighborhood that I have lived in since I was 15.  It was good seeing all the familiar sights and people.  I was tempted to stop at the pizza shop and get a slice, but I was loaded down with knapsack, duffle bag and helmets.  

I buzzed myself into my building, avoiding any BCs, picked up the mail that my sister didn't get that day and walked to the elevator.  As I waited for the elevator I noticed that there was a card taped to the wall next to the elevator button.  I read the card and my heart sank.  Michael the seven year old on my floor has passed away and his parents were thanking the building for there thoughts and prayers.  I remember meeting Michael five years earlier as I waited on my floor for the elevator one morning.  He and his mom were already there as I walked up.  He was in a specially designed stroller and it was clear that he was physically and mentally challenged.  This didn't stop him from smiling at me that first day however.  I introduced myself to him and his mom told me that his name was Michael.  I told him that I have a brother with the same name.  I short conversation yes, but one that I remember.  In the five years that I've lived in my building I've had many such conversations with Michael and his mom.  I've watched him grow bigger and strong over the years and introduced him to my nephew Chance when their paths crossed.   It's really hard reconciling that I won't have these small talks with Michael anymore.  

A day after coming home I saw his parents.  Clearly they were still hurting and mourning their loss.  They told me that when Michael went to sleep that night he was very happy and nothing was amiss.  Next morning when they went to get him he wouldn't wake up.  He had passed away in his sleep without a sound very peacefully.  My conversation buddy was gone.  I was sad.  

All of this weighed on me that first day back in NYC.  My heart went out to Michael's parents while my thoughts turned to my mother who still worries about her 45 year old son like he was some wet behind the ears newbie in the world.  I knew that she and the rest of the family were worried about me traveling by motorcycle on my journey south and back so I figured I'd let them know that I was home safe and sound.  

I thought that my mom would notice that I was calling from my home phone but she didn't.  We had a long conversation before I told her that I was home.  Her response was "now I can stop worrying."  This confirmed for me that I had done the right thing.  Tom Wolfe eat your heart out, Dorothy said it best "there's no place like home." 

- Wil

Bitten by the love bug

I wasn't the fact that my motorcycle got a flat tire outside of Slidell Louisiana as I headed to Jazzfest this weekend.

It wasn't the fact that it started raining and sky was getting darker and darker with more rain clouds by the second.

It wasn't the cars whipping by me as I stood stranded by the side of the road.

It wasn't that I gave the wrong exit number to the guy coming to give me and the bike a lift tot he cycle shop.

Nope. It wasn't any of these things that pissed me off. What did it was the millions of love bugs that covered me as I waited by the side of the highway. They were everywhere and I HATE BUGS!

When this kind couple stopped to see if the could help me, it took every ounce of strength in me not to do that flailing a spider is on me dance that people do. I even joked about it with the couple telling John and Elizabeth that this was my nightmare come true i.e. being covered by bugs. Fortunately these love bugs don't do anything but try to attach to each other in mating and crawl on you. If you are me the whole crawling on you thing is enough to freak you the frak out.

Suffice it to say being bitten by the love bugs was not the way that I thought my return to New Orleans Louisiana (NOLA) would be heralded but hey what are you gonna do, when you are vagabonding you just gotta roll with what you are given. I'm just glad that I didn't die when the rear tire blew out. Service guys said I was lucky. Said most blow outs like this end in an accident.

The cool thing is that I didn't know that I had a flat tire. All of a sudden the bike felt like it was going to hover and fly in the air. It was a pretty cool feeling. When I notice that the steering was kinda weird I knew something was wrong and pulled over a gingerly as possible and saw there was a flat.

Rumble at the Waffle House

Few, if any of my family or friends, know of or can truly appreciate my obsession and devotion to the Waffle House.

I've have stumbled drunkenly through her doors after nights of drinking and debauchery in my youth. I have ordered more hash-browns scattered, covered, smothered and chunked than I or my waistline care to remember. I have been honey-childed, sweetie-pied, hey babied and hiya doing darlinged by some of the friendliest waitresses anywhere. I have sat drinking coffee and smoking cigarettes undisturbed for hours as I studied for the LSAT exam while I lived in Atlanta. So the place holds fonds memories for me.

As I sat in my favorite corner booth in my favorite Waffle House in Biloxi I notice that the voices were being raised in alarm. When I focused in on the conversation around me I realized that my life wasn't in danger but apparently life as I've known it at the Waffle House was. Seems that the Waffle Houses in Gulfport, MS just west of Biloxi were all going smoke free in the near future. The wait staff and the customers thought that this meant Biloxi as well and they were all up in arms about it. Fortunately a cooler head prevailed and informed the group that it was only in Gulfport. The realization, however, that there was a smoking change a coming to Waffle House silently loomed over all their heads though. They knew it was just a matter of time before all Waffle Houses are smoke free.

Smoke or don't smoke in the Waffle House. It doesn't matter to me either way. I'm just glad that I avoided a rumble at the Waffle House.

- Wil

P.S. I know that some of you are freaking out that you can still smoke in an eating establishment: get over it. Waffle House has great air handling systems, you don't even smell the smoke and you don't taste the ashes that fall on your food from cigarettes dangling from the waitress's mouth. What! LOL.