NYC on crutches suck. Even on a good day, I am not coordinated on crutches. I resemble a cross between Frankenstein and someone trying to learn how to use stilts. I start, I stop, I trip, I complain. I get bruises under my arms and callouses on my hands and I yell and swear a lot! In 2004, I hurt my leg playing softball on a Thursday and was scheduled to leave on Friday with NYC with Wendy and another friend.
The trip was a debacle. First of all, navigating through the airport was ridiculous. Trying to get me, my suitcase and my crutches through security and to the gate was a 3 person ordeal with one person pushing me in the wheel chair and the other wrangling 3 suitcases. We looked like refugees walking to a camp with all our worldly possessions. People walking parted like the Red Sea as we passed them in order to protect their appendages from being run over or hit with suitcases.
Once there, the whole escapade at La Guardia was repeated and then we were finally picked up by Wendy's brother and off to dinner. The next day we were off to a NYY game. What a cluster! Randy drove us to the stadium and dropped us in front but finagling my way to my seat was exhausting! I was like a fish swimming upstream trying not to get steamrolled by the rabid Yankee fans.
On Sunday, we were walking around Midtown and came across the Gay Pride Parade. Before you knew it, we were swept up in the excitement. We met Harvey Fienstein, were dancing in the streets like they do in Ferris Bueller's Day Off and saw so many interesting sights. It is definitely unlike any parade that I have ever attended!
As I hobbled back to the airport like an old man, I decided that I would never do NYC on crutches again! The weekend concluded with meeting Renee Zellweger on the plane ride home. She was rude, thought we were crazy and would not even pose for a picture for us!
That night, as I collapsed on my bed, I decided that I would try to be more careful playing softball.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment