I went to the store Saturday to get my shifts covered for a few days to let my wrist heal.
“Did you hear Howie just got hit?” Vicky greeted me. “What? When?” I said. “Just a little bit ago. It was another hit and run!” Howie had called Vicky crying just before his shift and got rushed to the hospital in an ambulance. He asked Vicky to bring him a change of clothes. I offered to go with her.
Bicycle wheels hung from all sides of the second story porch of Howie’s brick apartment building. Bike parts were strewn about the inside of a small apartment. I used a toilet that wouldn’t flush as Vicky rifled through a dresser, piecing together a change of clothes. “Do we need anything else?” she said frantically, reciting a list of collected articles.
Howie’s place
“I’m sorry if it bothers you, but I need to smoke,” Vicky said as we climbed into her car. She reached into her purse, flicked a lighter and drew in a lungful before coughing. “I’m not ready for this sh-t today,” she wheezed.
Our route took us to get keys, then clothes, then drop keys off again. Two wrong hospital campuses and three K-turns later we arrived at the CMC Main parking deck.
Howie was up 3 floors in the trauma ward. Our visitor badges and his medical equipment were labeled with the pseudonym “Xerox,” as if he were some kind of spy or fugitive. Vicky went back first. I had to wait my turn in a crowded ER waiting room set off from a labyrinth of hallways.
I waited what seemed like an hour as sick people coughed and moaned and complained about the wait. I sat staring at my reflection in a security mirror on the ceiling. I watched myself stare glumly back through the ridiculous pair of red plastic sunglasses I wore all day to conceal my black eye. A woman moved her wheelchair and shrieked in pain. She rolled herself to the bathroom door 3 feet away, crying as she fought with the door. A woman waiting nearby, who would introduce herself as Lisa, hopped up and helped the lady in the wheelchair through the door. After 5 more minutes of shrieking and crying both women emerged from the bathroom. Lisa called for help and then knelt down and prayed with the wheelchair woman.
I felt my eyes begin to tear up at the same time as a wave of frustration swept over me.
“I had to wait for him to get X-rayed,” Vicky finally texted. “He’s his usual happy self.” When my turn came, I realized why we could only go one at a time. The ward was buzzing with people. Howie lay on a gurney parallel parked in a hall near a busy doorway. I gave him a handshake and an awkward half hug. I found a nearby chair as he sat up, smiling and talking a thousand miles an hour, which is his normal means of communication. He still had his company hat on, but he was lying shirtless with his legs hidden under sheets. He showed off the biker jersey the medics had cut from his torso.
“I was on my way in. I was coming up to College on Ninth,” he explained. He and an oncoming car passed each other before he was suddenly aware of a vehicle approaching from his left. “I tried to turn to miss him,” he said, but the car struck him on the left leg, pushing him with it for a moment. Howie went over. “Was it green? Was it my fault?” he wondered. The car stopped a few yards away. Howie sat up. The car revved and sped off.
“It had to be green because a cop went through before me, and there was another car coming behind him.”
I couldn’t help noticing the unfortunate similarities of our accidents: neither of us was on the clock, so we couldn’t claim worker’s comp. Both cars ran red lights. Both fled the scene before we could get their plates. And they both happened amidst the craziness of CIAA weekend. Later my roommate told me his valet company didn’t even offer service during the CIAA because of the safety risk.
Big conferences often get gold stars for bringing business to town. Howie and I alone generated thousands in business for both hospitals in town. Needless to say, the experience has left a bitter taste in my mouth. But the weekend was kinder to others eager to celebrate.
Howie later told me that his bike and bones are all intact. Despite being bruised and tender from hip to knee, he rode 6 miles home the next day.