Thanks to everyone for your support.
So Libby and I were headed home after a lovely dinner at Turkuaz with Shannon and Mike. We picked up some apple hookah tobacco in a big glass bucket on the way out, which I placed on the dashboard like I do everything.
Headed up 10th Street, la la la la.
As we cross over Jordan (in front of the Main Library), Libby requests that I slow down as people are being retarded. Although the light is yellow, someone turns left in front of me. I think surely the person behind them realizes that I, not they, have the right of way. Not so.
Pretty much a head-on collision. I can’t think to turn off the car, take the keys out, anything. I realize the car is smoking and we get out in case of Fire-y DoomTM.
I call 911 and they say they already know. Libby spits out a mouthful of blood, and it mixes with the oil that is leaking across the pavement.
I wander over to Libby. She is fucked. Says something about not being able to see for a few seconds. The car has quit smoking, so I have her sit down in the back seat. I call 911 again and request an ambulance as I can see the bump forming on the back of Libby’s head and upper cheek from several feet away.
Wander around in shock, call Jeremy to let him know I won’t be at the house to hang out, and check on Libby with the paramedics.
The lady paramedic is checking out Libby. Flashing lights everywhere. She looks at me and says “you doing ok? any pain?” I reply that I feel like I’ve certainly been in an accident. The initial adrenalin is wearing off, and my entire spine is afire. My lungs aren’t quite working. The lady grabs my neck and yells for a brace. My neck was way too scrawny for it.
They put me on a gurney. Most embarrassing, infuriating thing ever.
Libby and I cracked jokes in the ambulance. Quoted Eddie Izzard and Henry Rollins. Libby apologized for the amount of blood, and the Gentleman said something about never seeing blood on this job. It hurt a lot to laugh, but it was better than the alternative.
Jeremy found us in the hospital. He helped out like whoa.
They tried to unbuckle my seatbelt-belt when taking me off the gurney. That was sort of funny.
The lady checking me out asked me the date, which I vaguely remembered, and who the president was, at which I laughed. Hard.
I had about 7 x-rays taken, and called the tech Mr. DeMille. I don’t know if he got it or not.
Libby and Jeremy knew just about everyone that we encountered.
So that’s about it.
The reason Libby’s face is fucked is because of the glass jar. Yeah, way to go Willow.
SCUD is dead. On my car. I doubt there is any way that it’s not totaled.
So Axis on the 22nd is cancelled because of everything.
I’ll post about the awesome dinner party later. I think that was enough for you all to read.
Libby’s account is here.