Howdy from the Rodeo’s Disabled List!
It’s a pretty short list. Just me, actually. I sustained my injury in the line of duty at our Christmas party at Ballard’s wonderful Sunset Tavern.
It was a rare, magical snowy night in Seattle and I was celebrating the special event by chucking snowballs at people who were being shooed out the door of the Sunset at closing time. Ah, it was beautiful – the perfect set-up for an ambush. The bar staff would usher a group of partygoers out the door and I’d jump out from behind a car and unload an armful of snowballs at them.
They’d scatter and I’d howl with delight.
Eventually I grew bored, so I raised my Stetson high above my head and said my goodbyes. Nobody seemed too upset to see me go. I spun around towards my ride and was delivered, courtesy of the icy sidewalk, face-first onto the pavement.
The people who, moments earlier, found nothing funny about being pelted with snowballs thought the sight of a cowboy falling on his face was endlessly entertaining. People can be such hypocrites.
Getting up off the ice and trying very hard to walk away with some dignity, I realized that my wrist huuuurt. This was a “something is definitely wrong” pain. But I’m a suck-it-up dude. I went home, dragged my drums up two flights of stairs and crashed out.
I woke up an hour later with a pain in my wrist so intense that it could have lit up the bedroom. Since then, I have been a one armed man. My right arm (formerly known as my good arm) dangles at my side and aches like the devil - occasionally sending a jolt of searing pain to my torso. Good stuff!
I’m treating this is a learning opportunity. Every boring daily task has become an adventure. I’m writing with my left hand. It takes me 10 minutes to get dressed. I nearly had a breakdown trying to make toast. I need my girlfriend to tie my shoes for me.
This injury provides a chance for a proud man like me to practice being humble. I find that visits to the bathroom are especially humbling.
I finally saw a doctor. They gave me X-rays (inconclusive – thanks, doc!) and a little wrist brace. I was prescribed ibuprofen - Advil. I’d been popping Advil for the last two days with no effect. If Advil worked, I wouldn’t have been bothering with a doctor. I wish I had crumpled up that prescription slip and thrown it in his face.
On my way home from the doctor's office, still in pain, I stopped at the liquor store for a bottle of whiskey. Don’t judge. I need medicine. I'm even gonna try to get my insurance to pay for the booze.
Well, now I’m off the drums for a couple weeks. If any shows pop up, we’ll have to pull a cowboy out of reserve to take my slot. Curtis, keep your boots polished.
Hey, thanks for reading and welcome to the new blog! We have lots of adventures here in Seattle as well as on the road. Shoot, sometimes I just get excited about weird shit and want to share my joy/disgust with other creeps on the internet. Stay tuned!
Mason
It was a rare, magical snowy night in Seattle and I was celebrating the special event by chucking snowballs at people who were being shooed out the door of the Sunset at closing time. Ah, it was beautiful – the perfect set-up for an ambush. The bar staff would usher a group of partygoers out the door and I’d jump out from behind a car and unload an armful of snowballs at them.
They’d scatter and I’d howl with delight.
Eventually I grew bored, so I raised my Stetson high above my head and said my goodbyes. Nobody seemed too upset to see me go. I spun around towards my ride and was delivered, courtesy of the icy sidewalk, face-first onto the pavement.
The people who, moments earlier, found nothing funny about being pelted with snowballs thought the sight of a cowboy falling on his face was endlessly entertaining. People can be such hypocrites.
Getting up off the ice and trying very hard to walk away with some dignity, I realized that my wrist huuuurt. This was a “something is definitely wrong” pain. But I’m a suck-it-up dude. I went home, dragged my drums up two flights of stairs and crashed out.
I woke up an hour later with a pain in my wrist so intense that it could have lit up the bedroom. Since then, I have been a one armed man. My right arm (formerly known as my good arm) dangles at my side and aches like the devil - occasionally sending a jolt of searing pain to my torso. Good stuff!
I’m treating this is a learning opportunity. Every boring daily task has become an adventure. I’m writing with my left hand. It takes me 10 minutes to get dressed. I nearly had a breakdown trying to make toast. I need my girlfriend to tie my shoes for me.
This injury provides a chance for a proud man like me to practice being humble. I find that visits to the bathroom are especially humbling.
I finally saw a doctor. They gave me X-rays (inconclusive – thanks, doc!) and a little wrist brace. I was prescribed ibuprofen - Advil. I’d been popping Advil for the last two days with no effect. If Advil worked, I wouldn’t have been bothering with a doctor. I wish I had crumpled up that prescription slip and thrown it in his face.
On my way home from the doctor's office, still in pain, I stopped at the liquor store for a bottle of whiskey. Don’t judge. I need medicine. I'm even gonna try to get my insurance to pay for the booze.
Well, now I’m off the drums for a couple weeks. If any shows pop up, we’ll have to pull a cowboy out of reserve to take my slot. Curtis, keep your boots polished.
Hey, thanks for reading and welcome to the new blog! We have lots of adventures here in Seattle as well as on the road. Shoot, sometimes I just get excited about weird shit and want to share my joy/disgust with other creeps on the internet. Stay tuned!
Mason
Labels: country music, drinking, extreme self-medication, extreme weather, shamelessness
posted by Brent Amaker and the Rodeo at
4:00 PM
1 Comments
