Half way to WV I pulled over and dialed into a company conference call. After the meat of the meeting was complete, I was asked, "So how likely do you think it is that you will get injured this weekend?" I quickly replied, "Well, I have actually already visited the ER after I cut myself at 2:30am on a jug in my kitchen." There was a long silence on the other end of the line, then someone said,
"Perhaps you should have spent the weekend mastering your kitchen before moving on to extreme sports."
I had the car fully loaded, gassed up, and the coffee maker was even set to go on at 3 am. Everything was in order, well almost everything. I didn't have any cash and no bank card to get some on the road. Now I am confident in the ability of the retail world to accept credit cards, however American tolls are not so receptive. I lobbied for Jen to go withdraw some cash for her man that was skipping town. She replied, "why don't you write a check?" This did make me laugh but didn't seem to be a truly viable option.
So when I woke up at 2:30am, I decided to raid the coin jug, an old growler. I was so confident in this exercise that I even set up the video camera to capture the moment. At some point, and I will need to consult the tape to be sure, the growler spontaneously combusted in my hands. Coins spewed through out the kitchen scaring my dog into hiding and leaving me completely dumbfounded. I looked down at my hand and saw a flood of blood surge from my ring finger. I was not pleased. After getting some bandages on the digit, I started to contemplate my options. Basically I could wake Jen and Isa and have them take me to the ER or I could drive myself on the way out of town. The prospect of a grumpy sleepy Jen on top of a throbbing bloody finger was less than appealing. With blood starting to ooze through the bandages, I made the decision to wheel myself in. In retrospect this may not have been the most prudent course.
About half way to the hospital, I started to feel like I had lost an ample amount of red stuff. I raised the digit to the sky and hoped that I would bleed all over the roof of the Fiesta. I am confident I am the only agent to have this worry. I arrived (safely) at the ER around 3am and walked into the waiting room filming away. Everyone appeared to be completely stunned. I later found out that I was the first person in 15 years to come into the ER bleeding profusely at 3 am and NOT be completely plastered. Streaks are made to be broke.
The nice part about visiting the ER at 3 am is that you get helped very quickly. The bad part is that you get the doctor that has to keep reminding himself that his glasses are on. One of my favorite pasttimes is making small talk while you should be in great pain. I started chatting about everything and anything. The doc asked me to flex my finger as I explained backing up the Gap in the winter. Blood sort of spraying from the wound, surprising the doctor and nurse. That is my favorite part of the small talk, the surprise of the severity of the injury.
So anyhow, they made quick work of the wound, dropping 7 stitches in and cleaning her up. I walked out shortly thereafter, got in the Fiesta, and drove 14 hours to West Virginia. A proper start to a proper vacation.
