I’m in New York this week, having come in with several other Penn Staters to attend the Web 2.0 Expo. Since we weren’t signed up for workshops today, we took the afternoon to explore the city. Having lived here for a number of years, I felt reasonably certain that, armed with my trusty iPhone and subway apps, I could negotiate finding various points of interest. After a delightful lunch at Burgers & Cupcakes, off we went, Audrey and I focused on knitty city, an upper West Side yarn shop and then Sephora, Joe and George good naturedly tagging along behind us.
Oh, silly me.
Because in a blink of an eye, one moment I was walking down the street to makeup mecca, and the next, I was on the ground, faceplanted into cement. Seriously. Face on cement.
I am nothing if not complicated.
Right away I realized that my glasses were toast. Sure enough, I’d landed on the left temple, which flattened the frames and forced the lens into my eye. A hand up to my face came away red. I mean, a lot of red. Hooboy.
Thankfully, there was a bar right next to the yarn store, so we managed to pick me up and escort a very blind Robin2go (boom!) inside to clean off my hands, stop the bleeding, then inspect the damage. Upon a closer look, we decided that I didn’t need sutures so much as just some simple first aid. So while I sat and applied pressure and ice, George and Joe literally ran out to the Duane Reade we had passed earlier and came back with supplies. In the meantime, Audrey took pictures to document the excitement (we are such geeks) and we tried to see who could come up with the better story. I think Audrey wins: she beat me up in her attempt to gain access to my yarn stash. Truth always works for me. 🙂
So we cleaned up the cuts, and cut a couple of butterfly bandages to fit, and voila! No ER necessary.
With nothing better to do, I decided I had nothing to lose if I tried to salvage what I could. A call down to the front desk for some needlenose pliers produced this kind gentleman, who slowly, thoughtfully, wielded his pliers and bent the frames back into some semblance of optical wear.
The guy was wonderful. They may not be perfect, but I have a pair of glasses that allow me to see my way to the conference tomorrow. Whew! It seems for now, I am a tad banged up, but I’m in good shape and better spirits.
The first rule of Fight Club is that we don’t talk about Fight Club.
The second rule of Fight Club? We fight to the death for our yarn stash.