Bone Weary

OK, raise your hands. Who here remembers when I broke my leg in high school? It was the night that we saw “Fright Night” at the Warwick and then went to Old Burial Hill to look for zombies. Remember that? I fell off a 3 foot stone wall and broke my leg. Marty, you were there and for some reason I remember Panda being there which is odd since we went to a “horror” movie and Panda usually avoided such things.

Remember the weeks of my hobbling around on crutches? Remember the fiberglass cast that you couldn’t sign because it was rougher then sharkskin. Fucking thing was like Velcro.

I remember the fun nights with my new girlfriend, Kristen. I remember trying to make out with her at the lighthouse and she’d run just out of reach and make me chase her on my crutches. She had a sadistic streak but it was so gratifying to catch her. Then we’d go to my house and watch Miami Vice then listen to Echo and the Bunnymen. I remember Marty driving me home all the time in the Stanza. I remember the smell when the cast finally came off.

Now 22 years later, the same injury is haunting me like SciFi Network reruns of “Fright Night.” Terrible, horrible reruns cut with commercials every 12 minutes.

I’m in an air cast. I got X-rays this afternoon. I’m seeing an orthopedic surgeon. I’m getting old.

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