Channel 11 had the best coverage of the pursuit that recently occurred on the freeways of Los Angeles. Whereas other channels have bland coverage, channel 11 keeps flashing helpful information up on the screen. In the upper right corner of the screen is the current pursuit time - keeping one informed of how long the pursuit has been going. They will occasionally put up a map overlay where you don't miss the pursuit action, but you see the freeways where the pursuit has taken us. Fading contrails along the freeways show us the overall route of the chase and a moving red arrow shows us "You are here". Occasionally they put up a screen showing current pursuit speed with an asterisk by the actual speed. The asterisk legend at the bottom of the screen indicates that this is an estimated speed from the SkyCopter. When the pursuit takes a freeway transition road, the estimated lateral g screen shows that SkyCopter estimated the pursuit at 0.25 g on that transition road. There are other screens flashed up, but Channel 11 really has their act together.
There is a Tuesday night ice hockey game. I intercept the opponent's pass in the neutral zone, skate around one defender, and take a shot at the net. As I'm following through, another defender runs into me. My stick hits him in the shoulder (on the follow through) and jams against my inner thigh. The stick breaks, I go down, and the defender goes down. I get up and skate back into the play without a stick - noting that my inner thigh hurts. I finish the game but it is not until I'm removing my equipment that I see a 4 inch diameter purple bruise present. No big deal. I put ice on it when I get home.
Over the next few days the bruise grows to (literally) the size of a basketball. And has all sorts of weird purples, blues, and reds in it.
I play another ice hockey game on Friday - vowing that if the bruise doesn't start shrinking by the next morning then I'm going to see the doctor (not wanting a repeat of that little internal bleeding infection). Near the beginning of the game is a collision. A huge collision! The puck is between an opponent and me and we both want it. After the collision, I jump back up, get possession of the puck, and pass it to a teammate. The whistle blows. My opponent is sprawled on the ground, holding his knee, screaming, "Not again. I just had this knee fixed six months ago". He's eventually helped off the ice. I cannot figure out what part of my body hit him because I cannot feel anything amiss. We win the game.
I do go see the doctor on Saturday morning with a bruise stretching from the top of my groin to the top of the knee. All the way around the back of the thigh. After examination and a discussion of the last internal bleeding/infection episode, the doctor gives me a prescription for the Keflex antibiotic but tells me not to use it unless it starts getting warm to the touch, swells up, and/or turns a pinkish color. I agree and leave. (I have not filled or needed the prescription yet.)
There is something weird in the air! The KM and I have decided to be just friends and nothing more. Joe and his boyfriend broke up after Joe found out he was cheating on him. And Toni, a business associate, calls me to say that her girlfriend of a year and a half has left her. As well as trying to maintain an upbeat attitude for myself, I find myself consoling and encouraging Joe and Toni.
On Friday night Joe and Brandon meet me at the Frat House. We wonder where Sabrina, the HVAC, is. We have not seen her for a couple of months. Brandon is wearing one of his girlfriend's jeans because he doesn't want to wear his new pair of pants. A pair of pants that is semi-see-through. The jeans are loose and keep falling down until he finds a rubber band to hold them up with. (After he rejected my idea of using a condom to hold them up.) He eventually puts on the semi-see-through pants and causes quite a commotion. Our table is the center of attention for the night with Brandon's pants and Joe (and other friends) encouraging Brandon. And I'm in a tie. (A remnant of a late Friday night meeting.)
In the sea of commotion, I enjoy listening to the music and I am starting to enjoy being single again. I am looking forward to extra time in the summer for cycling. And I plan for time alone.
But sometimes one's plans don't work out the way one expects.
Joe introduces me to a friend, Johnny. And here we go again. We make conversation in the hallway until I decide to leave. And am walked to the patio by Johnny. I am in bed by 1:40am on Saturday morning.
A friend writes a story about me. Here's how it starts: Forty-three-year-old Ray is too passive to quit his jobs; he just calls in sick until he's fired, then hops to another job. He also club-hops and bed-hops, from place to place, man to woman to man to woman, developing obsessive and hopeless crushes on unattainable people, loving the people who cannot or will not reciprocate his love. He likes to get drunk in the middle of the day, admittedly has no work ethic, and is both bored and delighted with his life. Ever the well-rounded man, he also has strange friends who get him into the most difficult situations where none ever existed.
I quit reading the story and return to the book by the 1991 Nobel Peace Prize winner, Aung San Suu Kyi. (Leader of the pro-democracy movement in Burma.) How can she be so confident and encouraging under the circumstances? I think about, after reading part of the book, going into the garage and slitting my throat. I don't do it. Not wanting to give the ants, the spiders, and the rats the satisfaction of thinking that they won.