So, last night was my last night in Portland with the guys and so we go to this house party. Really fun...darts, beer pong (in which i didnt participate), home brewed beer, good people, etc. I'm outside chatting with this girl Molly about life in general and beside us is a pretty drunk guy leaning up against the fence. All of a sudden, amidst our conversation, he blacks out and falls to the ground, or onto my ankle to be precise, his cigarette flies from his fingers....complete silence. I pause...slap the guy, shake him and no response so I check to see if hes breathing. Yes, he is. Still no response. Call 911. While describing to the lady the location he stirs awake to say I'M OKAY, NO, I'M OKAY. I hand him the phone to tell the 911 chicky he's fine.
Once I leave the scene I realize my ankle is throbbing, pretty severely. The lovely hostess gets me ice and everyone's all "ARE YOU OKAY?! AH, YOUR ANKLES HUGE!" That's when I say the night is pretty much done for me. We head back to Chris' place, I eat puffins, drink some crown royal, ice my now refered to as "cankle" and sleep. Wake up the next morning to find that my ankle is the size of a baseball.
In the morning, Cutsy brings me to the airport and when I get out I realize that I really can't walk. The people give me a wheelchair! I felt so special! I got wheeled to the gate and when I arrived in SF I had a wheelchair waiting for me the second I got off the plane. Now that's the life!
Kinda reminds me of this one time Kristen Renee hurt her ankle. Or maybe it was her toe. It was her birthday, and all her girfriends we're in the living room downstairs. I think she was about 12... She must have needed something upstairs and so she ran up, grabbed what she needed, and because was so dark she freaked out and started to sprint. In her wild fear she slipped down the first step of the stairwell and bounced, on her foot, all the way down to the bottom...crawled into the living room to let everyone know that she was indeed, injured.