Friday was supposed to be a washout. I looked at the forecast, saw the threat of rain, and did the responsible thing: I scheduled the bus. I was prepared for a soggy, logistical nightmare to get to my 2:00 PM X-ray appointment. Apparently, Mother Nature decided to get all her crying out of the way before I even crawled out of bed, leaving the rest of the day at a mocking, beautiful 60 degrees.
So there I am, at the clinic, dealing with an X-ray tech who clearly wasn’t ready for the “Lucas Experience.” Look, if you’ve never assisted me with a transfer, it’s less of a medical procedure and more of a high-stakes Cirque du Soleil act without the spandex or the safety net. I think I saw her soul leave her body for a second during the transition. Mission accomplished.
The Great Escape
Once the tech stopped vibrating from the adrenaline of my transfer, I realized I had a problem. Because I’d planned for a monsoon, I was staring down a sixty-minute wait for the bus.
I looked at the sunshine. I looked at the road. I realized I was exactly three blocks from home.
“Oh, screw this,” I thought.
I threw on the headphones, cranked Adrenaline Mob until my skull rattled, and piloted the chair home. There’s something majestic about a high-speed transit through the neighborhood when you’re reclaiming an hour of your life from the municipal bus system.
Precision Engineering
By the time I hit the driveway, I’d worked up a thirst that only professional intervention could solve. I grabbed the girlfriend, headed across the street to The Brewing Project, and got down to business.
Here’s the thing about that first beer: it went down with such alarming ease that it felt like a clerical error not to order a second.
Now, I’m not saying I’m hammered, but let’s just say the “fine motor skills” required to navigate a power chair become “suggestive motor skills” after a couple of heavy pours. Driving a chair while slightly intoxicated is basically a real-life game of Operation, except the buzzer is me hitting a door frame.
X-rays clear, adrenaline high, and a slight buzz on a 60-degree afternoon. I’m calling that a successful Friday.
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