ow, my brain.
Feb. 17th, 2002 05:40 pmSaturday night seemed like a really good idea at the time. I mean, insano BBG chapter best friends, ice skating, boys-- what's not to love, right? The answer, of course, would be head trauma.
See, I haven't gone ice skating since the fourth grade or so. And even back then, I was never what you'd call graceful. My classmates were fleet-footed birthdaypartygoers, moving like Olympians on their skates. I clung to the railing as I inched my way along, a squawking, clumsy penguin.
Fortunately, I wasn't the only penguin there. Steph, Stacey, and Sydney (from now on to be known as the Glamorous Ladiessss) were right there with me (or rather in front of and behind me-- none of us were willing to let go of the railing). The four of us called to mind a herd of epileptic giraffes on crack. Not a pretty sight.
But that was still fun, you know? We lurched along, slipping and sliding, while the more coordinated members of our group (Bri, Manda, and Kyle) whooshed by from time to time, occasionally stopping to snap a picture of the Glamorous Ladiessss and me. Then Bri convince me to let go of the railing, and I took a few shaky steps, and then I thought I was really starting to get the hang of it, and then....
Gyaaah! Whoosh. Thud.
It took me a few second to figure out where I was, before I realized: I was on my back, on the ice, and my head hurt like hell. Also, a surprisingly yummy ice rink lifeguard (like the pool kind, but with more clothes, and skates instead of those red floaty things) was standing over me, offering to help me off the ice with another yummy lifeguard. I declined, which proved to the GLs that I must have had a concussion, so they helped me out. As I left, one of the yummy guys came back with a Ziploc baggie of ice for my head, which I also declined-- after all, i cracked, ice on my head had been that cause of the problem, right?
Right now, my neck and back are really ouchy, so I'm gonna split, take a nap, and then return to tell the rest of the night's tale. 'Cause it ain't over yet, kids.
See, I haven't gone ice skating since the fourth grade or so. And even back then, I was never what you'd call graceful. My classmates were fleet-footed birthdaypartygoers, moving like Olympians on their skates. I clung to the railing as I inched my way along, a squawking, clumsy penguin.
Fortunately, I wasn't the only penguin there. Steph, Stacey, and Sydney (from now on to be known as the Glamorous Ladiessss) were right there with me (or rather in front of and behind me-- none of us were willing to let go of the railing). The four of us called to mind a herd of epileptic giraffes on crack. Not a pretty sight.
But that was still fun, you know? We lurched along, slipping and sliding, while the more coordinated members of our group (Bri, Manda, and Kyle) whooshed by from time to time, occasionally stopping to snap a picture of the Glamorous Ladiessss and me. Then Bri convince me to let go of the railing, and I took a few shaky steps, and then I thought I was really starting to get the hang of it, and then....
Gyaaah! Whoosh. Thud.
It took me a few second to figure out where I was, before I realized: I was on my back, on the ice, and my head hurt like hell. Also, a surprisingly yummy ice rink lifeguard (like the pool kind, but with more clothes, and skates instead of those red floaty things) was standing over me, offering to help me off the ice with another yummy lifeguard. I declined, which proved to the GLs that I must have had a concussion, so they helped me out. As I left, one of the yummy guys came back with a Ziploc baggie of ice for my head, which I also declined-- after all, i cracked, ice on my head had been that cause of the problem, right?
Right now, my neck and back are really ouchy, so I'm gonna split, take a nap, and then return to tell the rest of the night's tale. 'Cause it ain't over yet, kids.
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