Blood on the Tracks
I've been debating whether or not to post about this, as it's a somewhat humiliating story. But what the hell, here goes...
On Thursday afternoon, at the uptown 1/2/3 platform in the Times Square subway station, I fell / got bumped onto the tracks.
It wasn't completely my fault, and it wasn't completely somebody else's fault. I had leaned over to look for an approaching train, and a group of people walking behind me accidentally brushed against me just hard enough to propel my momentum forward. I had about 2 seconds to unsuccessfully try to steady myself (probably with comical cartoon-like arm waving... I can't quite recall), and eventually my weight carried me over the platform.
I'd say it's about a 5-foot drop, which isn't that far, and fortunately I landed on my feet, but I landed hard on my right ankle. Also on my way down I attempted to catch myself and smashed my left palm against the platform edge.
My first thought as I hit the ground was: don't touch the rail (even though I was nowhere near the third, a.k.a. electric, one).
My second thought: this is so embarrassing (triggered by the collective gasp from the crowd above me).
I would have had no trouble hoisting myself back onto the platform (and yes, there was a train approaching, albeit about 60 seconds away), but an MTA worker happened to be standing right there, so he reached out his hand and helped me up. I thanked him, assured him I was okay, then scurried to the other end of the platform to distance myself from the witnesses.
When I got home a few minutes later, I checked my ankle and wrist for swelling and luckily found none. Both throbbed a bit, but there didn't seem to be any real damage. This all happened around 4:30pm. By 9pm, the ankle had stiffened up considerably. By 10pm, I couldn't put any weight on it, forcing me to make an early exit from the MTV holiday party (which I'd had to sneak into* after not getting an invitation despite consistent work in 2007... thank you very much, Viacom). Of course I couldn't find a cab, so I hobbled to the subway. Got home, downed a few ibuprofen pills, and went to bed (blatantly violating my sleep schedule) hoping that rest would heal the ankle.
As of yesterday morning, the ankle is significantly improved, but still tender. Stairs, and even curbs, are still a bitch, and I cannot move faster than a leisurely stroll. But I think I'll be able to avoid crutches or a visit to the doctor.
Feel free to laugh now.
* Note: for anyone who wants or needs to sneak into a future MTV holiday party, all you need is a red Sharpie. Every year the stamp to reenter from the smoking section is same. Just write PUFF on your hand, sneak inside the smoking barricade, and you're good to go.
Saturday, December 08, 2007
Blood on the Tracks