The Incident on Lakeshore Ave.

I wasn't even supposed to be there, I should have been at work. But, early as the sunrise, 5:30 am, and my mobile is chirping and I'm fumbling for it on the dresser. It's my boss. He pulled out his back the other night and says stay home. He says, write it down like you went in to work anyway, and I say, of course you got it. Hell, it's not his money anyway but I appreciated the gesture. I thanked him and wished him well then sank back into my pillow.

Now it's afternoon and a friend and I are playing frisbee down at the panhandle park on Lakeshore Avenue. The grass is dry and brittle beneath my feet and the wind is gusting toward me. I catch the frisbee and have to really wind up to get it back to her. I almost hit a BMW across the street on a wild arc.

Our bag of groceries is nestled in some shade by the sidewalk next to my sandles. And here comes the frisbee far to my left, riding low and fast. I run to my side for it, but it's already behind me. Picking up speed I reach out for it, maybe even touch it, when out of nowhere comes an electrical transformer box and the full brunt of the corner tears into my sternum, square in my chest and ripping downward like a record player needle coursing the groove. My feet go out and I'm leveled on the grass, wind gone... breath shallow and sharp. Scared as hell I manage to sit up, feeling the shape of my ribcage. I'm not ready to look at the damage yet so I lay back down and try to fill my lungs. Gina is at my side now and she's saying something, I don't remember what, and I get hysterical and the laughter feels like a fillet knife between my ribs.

I'm imagining the all too common shtick of hollywood comedy, some wimp watching a beautiful woman right into a pole. I'm that guy. And that gets me going again. Gina is eying me now and I'm worried now either that I'm half-mad or have a bone sticking out of my shirt.

She helps me home, stopping on the hilltop curb. A numb across my chest is starting to fade and a throbbing pain is coming through. Gina hands me cherry tomatoes and keeps me talking. We're sharing embarrassing stories, we're talking about our childhood, and despite it all... it feels good, something real about the exchange and the sharing of a ridiculous moment.