Hellbent on Breaking My Face

I find it mildy tragic in the funniest of ways that this post comes directly after my celebration of getting the splint off the front of my teeth---a situation that occurred only after I did a swan dive over my handlebars.
Well friends, I like to keep it real so I decided to crash again last night to keep things fun and lively. Let me just say right now that no teeth were lost and/or damaged during said crash so quell those fears friends, this was just a shining moment in MandaMcK stupidity.
The story goes something like this--I'm sitting at neighborhood bar throwing back some beer of choice (1/2 off cans on Wednesdays is a beautiful thing) with my favorite Kalamazoo couple (Wanye and Amy), Best Friend (Beth) and boyfriend of Best Friend (Rafiq). We decide after consuming 3-4 tallboys each that we are going to go to NoLibs Dancespot. Now this isn't normal for me...meaning riding my bike whilst buzzed but it didn't seem like a huge deal and I've done it before so Beth and I hop on our bikes and Amy and Wayne hop the train with plans to meet at their stop on Spring Garden St/2nd Street.
The ride is enjoyable, not a lot of traffic and a moment of pointing out where First Accident happened. When we get to 8th and Spring Garden we notice major roadwork. The street has been stripped down to this horrid bumpy mess that rivals ungraded dirt roads in northern Michigan. We take note of the lack of pedestrians and vouch for smoother ground---we jump onto the sidewalk. I would like to point out that I HATE riding on the sidewalk because it's dangerous for riders and pedestrians and bikes belong on the road but as aforementioned, this was a special circumstance.
Things were going fine until Beth yelled out "There's Silk City"---a hipster bar that was supposed to be serving free Colt 45 and proceeded to slam on her brakes (with me a mere bikelength behind her). As I pictured my death I quickly squeezed my brakes with the strength of 18 bears only to have my front wheel faintly brush Beth's backwheel. As I wobbled carefully I managed to pull it back together gracefully enough that Beth didn't even know our wheels hit. I then proceeded to remind her that we had 2 Kalamazooans to pick up 4 blocks down the street at the subway to which she laughed, said "Oh" and continued to pedal while I worked hard to ease the mounting heart attack in my chest from the near collision.
At some point in the following four blocks I took the lead and as I saw the train station coming into view in the near distance I turned to Beth and said, get this, "Look there's the train station" only to turn back around and realize I was about to slam headlong into the back end of a cement wheelchair ramp. Please take note:


So as I try to figure out what just happened and figure out what Beth is yelling at my I immediately clutch my mouth---it's only been 2 days since I got the splint off the teeth from Accident One and I freaked out that I did something. Luckily there's no teeth trauma but my right wrist hurts like an M-Fer and lets just say I was wearing a spaghetti strap tank top so my left wrist, shoulder and upper left boob are a road rash mess along with my temple. After yelling about my bike being messed up again and trying to explain to Beth why this is more important than my somewhat beaten to a pulp body I got up and was ready to meet up with Amy and Wayne and go to the bar....and I did....and then I woke up this morning feeling like I had wrestled a large band of spider monkeys the night before and wondering if I would be able to button my pants due to the pain in my wrist (just barely but it took a damn long time to get that stupid button through the hole!).
So then at work after explaining the fiasco to all my horrified co-workers I began to wonder if my wrist was sprained or possibly fractured. Wouldn't you know it, a medic came in to buy new earphones so I hounded him at the register and had him look at the wrist. He took a good 4 minute look at it, shook his head at me and said he was almost 100% sure it was fractured. Of coures I call my doctor and no one answers and the machine recording says "Any messages received after 3:30pm will be listened to the following day", it was 3:40pm. So now it's 3am and I'm fuzzy on leftover Percocet from my previous crash contemplating the bottle of rum sitting in the kitchen with a bum wrist and one more day of work left at my current job. Well, I'm still deciding on that rum but for now I'll close with this:



"Fashion forecast: Road rash is the new black"