Isadora Gray

Valencia Sunday StreetsEverything was going fine. I’d cruised through the Sunday Streets closing of Valencia Street having a wonderful time soaking up the good communal vibes of a few thousand happy people out in the middle of the street on a sunny Sunday. Like these folks doing their collective dance thing.

As i rode along i couldn’t help noticing that Aslam’s Rasoi was open for lunch in honor of the street closure, so i went in and had their full strength (i.e. “hot”) Saag Gosht and a piece of naan. Then pleasantly stuffed and buzzing on capsaicin, i continued toward home and realized i could stop in Safeway for the wheat germ i’d been wanting.

And yes, in the back of my mind there had bubbled to the surface the idea of perhaps grabbing a pint of high quality vanilla ice cream to use up some of that chocolate sauce made with Tcho chocolate the other day that something went wrong with so that sugar crystals formed and i was reluctant to give it to folks, it being second quality and all that.

I was probably thinking of a mountain of that ice cream surmounted by a lava flow of crunchy chocolate sauce, thus causing me not to notice that my field jacket, which i’d doffed owing to the warm afternoon and had hanging on my right handlebar, was slipping a bit so that the leading edge of the bottom, rather like Isadora Duncan‘s scarf, finally dangled low enough that it could be trapped between the right tire and the street, thus causing that side of the Segway to come to an immediate halt. The other side and i continued briefly in our previous trajectories until somehow i spun around and my left foot got entangled in the field jacket as we all crashed to the ground, twisting my ankle into a highly unnatural position before it finally yielded and ripped itself half in two.

No no, the jacket. The ankle remains tenuously attached. And yes, i know i’m lucky it was my foot that got caught rather than my neck like poor Isadora.

I sincerely wanted to lie there in agony but of course as usual with my accidents there were lots of witnesses, all of whom had dropped everything and were converging on me from every angle so i had to immediately stagger to my feet shouting, “Nothing harmed but my pride, people. I’m fine, i’m fine. No prob. Everything’s OK. Move along folks, nothing to see here.”

Luckily i can ride the Segway with just one foot on the platform, so i went ahead and picked up two pints of the ice cream and some wheat germ in Safeway, using a shopping cart to bear my weight so i could get around in the store. The expedition will continue until the last man drops.

Back home i got the shoe off and jury rigged an ice pack while i made a supper of the ice cream (yes, both pints) and wrapped the ankle with an Ace bandage. Got through the night with some left over vintage 1995 Demerol and called my doctor first thing this morning. She took one look at my foot, poked it experimentally (“Yipe!”) and sent me off for x-rays, which revealed a fracture, and so now i have an appointment in the morning to see an orthopedist who specializes in feet and ankles. At least this is something new, as i’ve never had leg surgery before.

This is great although i might not be ready for another week or so to emulate these rollerbladers at Sunday Streets as they skate twenty yards to build up maximum speed and then leap into the air and slide all the way to the end of that pipe on the edges of their skates.

blader

Oh, and another pic from Sunday Streets. I had the shot of the three young women against that wall framed, but then folks kept walking past as i tried to squeeze off a shot between them. Look, Dude, you walked into my frame…which was not about you but rather the women behind you.

i c u

 

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