Wipe Out

One second I am riding my bike down Market St, going left to get out of the way of a bus that's pulling out of a stop. Next second I'm bleeding from my face, horrified sanfranciscans pulling me up on the street.

I figured I'd go around the bus, but realized I can't make it back to the sharrow in front of it, so I decided I'd go further left, around the streetcar stop. Watch out for the tram tracks, slippery because it was kind of raining. Good, made it. Now it's time to go back to the sharrow lane, watch out for the tracks again, make sure you come at an angle because your skinny wheels can get stuck in the groove. Clear those, but then the front tire slips on a metal grate and down I go.

I slam my face on the grate. I try to get up, but I can't because I'm stunned. Can't see properly. People pull me out of the street to the side. Blood. They take care of my stuff until the medics come. Some guy is taking pictures of me with his iPhone. Medics see my face and say, whoa. Everyone says, whoa. I am lucid in the ambulance, I know what day it is. Scared. The medics take care of me, they're friendly, reassuring. I will be okay, they say.

And I am. A little bruised, some stitches, but okay. I'm okay.

Yeah, just tried to get a cool shot of a bloody ring.