Homecoming

This weekend was my alma maters homecoming weekend. Since I like to live my life in a bygone era, reminiscing on past glories it's usually a pretty big time of year for me. Mike described it as his favorite weekend of the year; I wouldn't quite go that far but I do look forward to meeting up with all the friends I only get to once or twice a year and acting like the jackasses we were in college. I won't bother regaling you with all havoc caused because while it was very enjoyable and exceeded all expectations I imagine it would translate to something super boring to most people. I'll just outline my very loose agenda for the weekend and take it from there. Here was the plan:

Friday: Down to D.C. after work, head over to Irish Times to meet up with everyone.
Saturday: Alumni baseball game in the morning
Jump back up to Baltimore for a flag football game at 4:00
Banquet to celebrate the baseball coaches 20th year at CUA at 7:00
Out to the bars afterwards.

Now I,ve talked several times in this blog about Eric Syndrome ( it's when I do something stupid to ruin a good time), and of course it came into play again. I love playing in my flag football team, mostly because it's an oppurtunity to get out and run around and our team is awesome and I enjoy beating people, but I debated whether I should bother driving an hour both ways for a 45 minute game. Especially considering the team we were playing was 0-3 and it was an almost garuanteed victory. I decided to head up because, like I just said, I love playing and we only have 8 games until the playoffs start. Shocker, that was the wrong decision. Late in our 30 point blowout victory I caught a pass and the guy covering me decided instead of flag football we'd be playing tackle for that play. Now to be prefectly honest with you, I'm kind of a pussy, I don't take a hit very well, and this time was no exception. I fall awkwardly on my wrist. I kept playing and didn't really notice anything until I took my gloves off after the game. That's when I observe a strange protusion on my hand, at the base of the wrist, that looks oddly like a bone sticking out where it's not suppossed to be. I decided that it was homecoming and I didn't have time for dislocated or broken bones so I just iced it and carried on with the rest of the night.

I've gained a new respect for amputees after this experience. My hand and wrist were terribly swollen rendering my right arm pretty much useless. Saturday night I was hanging out with a friend of mine in medical school who determined that nothing was broken so it wasn't necessary for me to run to the doctor right away, but that doesn't mean it didn't hurt like a bitch. I realized I might be the least ambidextrous person in the history of the world, I do almost everything with my right hand. I was pathetic, with the combination of me whining about how much my arm hurt and having to get everyone to do stuff for me. It took me a good 5 minutes to unlock my door after fumbling around with me keys lefthanded. I could barely shower. And just for fun try unbuttoning your pants to pee with one hand, it's not easy. Neither is putting a shirt on. I didn't even bother eating any food that was a sandwich just to avoid having to stab at my food like the sloppy, fat kid in third grade. Luckily I wipe my ass left-handed, so I didn't have to walk around with dingleberries all weekend.

I do have one particularly kick ass story from the weekend that needs to be shared with the group, stayed tuned for that.