It’s the international American holiday of get drunk and crash your face while riding your bicycle drunkenly at two in the morning, which technically is the next day. It’s a glorious holiday, one I’ve been doomed to miss this year as the result of a terrible cold by-product. We’ll call it chest pain.
I’m sure with all the bicycle-riding pedal-pedants I know, at least one of them is also doomed — doomed to crash his face while riding drunkenly. It’s to be expected. They celebrate pretty hard, and are proud of that. I hope none of them is hurt badly. While it can provide for great entertainment, including side-bursting gut laughter, it’s kind of a drag if you have to take your pal to the emergency room at two in the morning. Undoubtedly, on this particular holiday, the emergency room will be filled with other drunken face-crashers, some more severe than others, and there will be no where to nap comfortably without getting a hollering from the nightly nurse who’s tired of drunk people all together. Good luck, she says.