Yeah, so the cencus lady wan't the only thing that happened. Got a call from Josh inviting me out to meet up with Jeremy and Alex at Blue and Gold in the East Village. This was about 10:00pm. Walked the Pig, got on the bike and headed for the city. The whole thing moved back to Brooklyn and two bars later it was time to go home.
Here's where it got hazy.
I was on Bedford and North 12th when I crashed, In retrospect, being there shows that I was going the long way home. Dunno if I was trying to head elsewhere or if I thought it would be a good idea to do the extra biking. I was going down Bedford and somehow I veered into the sidewalk and went down. I have a little boo-boo no my knee and I rapped my knuckles on my right hand a bit. I woke up and there was an empty PFC box in the living room. I feel terrible.
3 comments:
PFC? Please don't tell me you ate at the grossness place around the corner with the fried roaches and yummy hidden delights. gross. Thats prob. what made you feel sick.
Keets,
I should have written it a little better. What I wanted to say was that it wasn't the booze, it wasn't falling off my bike, it was the fried whatever-it-was that made me wake up the other morning feeling like I was tied down by a bunch of Lilliputans.
Thanks for reading,
Frank
Frank, we've all been there at least once. We're not proud of it and we sure as heck don't publish it for the world to see, but we've all been there.
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