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Jeezus H. Christ, Commish, I'm glad you are alive! These are not the vacation memories you had hoped to cherish always, eh?

One of our salesmen had a heart attack in the Bahamas on a reward trip he had earned. Poor bugger died. So as they say, it coulda been worse.

But after your fall down the cellar steps last year and now this, hey, don't climb any ladders.

KEE-rist, Commish, you need to go out with foam pads wrapped around you! May your insurance cover all your costs, may you heal quickly, and may you never tipple off a scooter again. These are my good wishes to you!

As far as personally bad vacations: A drive to San Francisco which included plowing into an elk (killed dead as a doornail and the car totalled), hitchhiking back to a truck stop with a psychotic air force guy on leave who liked to freak out the punk rockers with his stories about guns, and then back home with a trucker through the worst snow storm to hit Vail Pass in 15 years. Five of us were packed into a semi-truck loaded with onions, my most hated vegetable. I thought I was going to die drowning in Walla Walla Sweets when the truck jack-knifed and tipped off the mountain.

But instead I went back to the icy cold hatred in my ex-boyfriend's eyes who I had dumped before leaving on my "vacation." A warm reception it was not.

My goodness, Commish, I'm glad you're okay. (Well, maybe not quite "okay", but in one piece. (Well, maybe not quite "in one piece", but alive and in good humor and having prospects for a complete recovery.))

What happened?

I have no real vacation-mishaps stories. (Maybe that just means I'm due for some.) Although when I was vacationing in Florence with my cousin ten years ago, she fell down the steps of Giotto's campanile and broke her ankle. We ended up going to the local ER (difficult when you don't speak Italian, and they don't speak English.) They couldn't have been nicer, and the whole thing was on the house since they couldn't figure out how to charge us. (We immediately took a taxi from the hospital to Vivoli. For medicinal purposes, of course.)

It make us extreme pleasure of communicating with you.

Those randy Italians, I tell you what. I feel all funny inside!

Also, I tried some U.S. gelato last night that was a pale shadow of the black tarry chocolate death goo you get in Italia. Romakimmy, send some gelato, STAT!

Good lord commish. I, too, eagerly await further details.

Nothing has really happened to me on vacation, but I have had to call the ski patrol for a friend that tore his ACL on the first day of a ski trip.

Also, stumbling upon a classmate in London who had taken a bit too much German speed. After hiding her shit for her, taking her to the hospital (where she refused to tell them what had happened) and staying with her all fucking day, we finally got back to the dorm and what does she say? Thank you? Nope. "Can I have my pills back?".

Sheesh.

Jeez, scooters are the tool of the devil. Speedy recovery! (Well, as "speedy" as bones can mend, I suppose.)

I'm rather fortunate, judging by all y'alls experiences. The worst that ever happened to me was on a flight to London. Drammamine+5 minibottles of free wine=passing out in front of the lavatory in the middle of the night. When I came to the flight attendant told me they thought the thud was the landing gear coming down. On the plus side, I got to fly in First Class after that.

Because they had a bigger lavatory up there?

I haven't ridden on an airplane since I was 19 so I have no good plane stories. Best I can do is this old chestnut involving a Greyhound bus.

...and get better Commish, old bud.

Commish, dude, we have got to get you one of these before you get killed. Holy crap.

This is why I'm a shut-in.

Healingest of vibes to you and Chris.

Goddammit, like I don't have enough to worry about in my life, I have to worry about when my monkeyfriends go on vacation! From now on, no one leaves town unless they check with me first.

This old chestnut,sorry

Funny you should mention gelatto, readymade - I've been batting my eyelashes at the restauraunt owner next to my workplace in a effort to pry his recipe of cherries boiled in red wine on top of pistacchio gelatto...

Ouch! Hope you and your wife knit up soundly. On the upside, it sounds like you missed a pretty boring meeting.

When I worked at a bank, one of my co-workers returned from Cuba with a nasty road-rash down his face and arm, from falling off a scooter (tools of satan, apparently). Another co-worker went to Jamaca and visited a waterfall with reputed healing powers; while having his picture taken, he sliped and went over the falls, sustaining many bruses.

I just imagine the waterfall saying "I'll give you something to heal from, ya mo-ron!"

Yes more detail, unless you were wearing a grass skirt, again. Please, tell the wife I send my "get well."
Is there a better way expresing - get well? Using "get" seems more demanding there than - hope all is well.

Vacation bummers -
Does spending two weeks in the back seat of a light blue Ford LTD and sharing it with a step sister; driving coast to coast & back count. Add, her grandmother sat with us on half the trip - "dad thom is not staying next to the side window, will you make him sit on the floor board, pleease."

Commish, hope and wish that both of you have a speedy & a well recovery.

A few years ago a vacationing couple were eaten by a black bear in a park in Ontario. To me, that still ranks as #1 on "bad things that could happen to you on vacation." Killed, it happens. Killed and nibbled on - whole other level.

I guess what I'm saying, commish, is that I am very sorry you got hurt, and I'm very glad that there are no black bears in Bermuda.

somnberry, on a hiking trip in the Red Woods, the neighboring tent slept with their tooth paste in their sleeping bags - fortunately no one was hurt - but on hell of a scare them.

Thanks for the kind thoughts, all - without going into the full four-part harmony version, the basic details are as follows: it was the fifth day of our vacation, we had ridden the scooter all over the island (just like we had when we were there two years ago), and I was keeping to the island speed limit of 25 mph. However, it's the one turn you can't make that does you in, and I suddenly found ourselves on a stretch of narrow road that was steeper and turn-ier than I had thought, and I couldn't make that turn. We went off into the brush, and whatever we hit (palm tree? I'm still not sure) hit back hard enough to blast me with the handlebars and rear-view mirror, and knock us both off the scooter. We both immediately knew that I had broken some ribs, and Chris had broken her left arm. Passers-by quickly stopped what traffic there was and called 911, and we got to the hospital - it was there that the MRI also showed that I had ruptured my spleen, so it had to come out to stop the internal bleeding. I did only "break" one rib proper, though - the rest were just bruised.

I still can't believe it happened, but as I say, we will get better. Chris got out of the hospital and is not feeling too well at the moment (she had to have surgery to set the break - they had to wait this long for the swelling to go down) but she should be fine eventually - the doctors say the bone lined up well, and needed minimal plates and such to hold in place, which is good.

But yeah, scooters are clearly the work of the devil. The brochures don't really stress how badly (and in how many different ways) you can hurt yourself with them, and who really reads all the fine-print waiver of liability language anyway?

Glad you were in a place with good medical care, Commish, and mend soonest!

Off topic, this is a fascinating article. Even though our friend dong_resin once told me that listening to the Beach Boys makes him want to pound nails into his head, I think they did a lot of good music. Poor Brian Wilson, though, is a mess.

Tiz this paragraph speaks volumes. Friends of the Wilson family mentioned similar things to me years ago. :
Wilson talks a lot about being afraid - of the voices, of failure, of never being able to write another song. The first time he remembers feeling fear was in the presence of Murry, his violent and domineering father, who took his own failure as a songwriter out on his sons. Despite this abuse, Wilson maintains that the band wouldn't have got where they did without him.

Guess that puts the kibosh on early summer croquet. Get well soon, guys. Give me a call when you get a chance.

That settles it, then, Commish: Next year you're going to LebowskiFest instead. Safer for you, if not for the rug.

Yeah. You'll need those ribs. They really tie the torso together.

I hope you're going good and slow, mate. We need you healed. If anyone's going to mess you up, it really should be one of us and not some stupid scooter.

Get well, buddy.

Updates, because I can't resist: I made the Boston Globe (okay, the regional section, but still), and the local paper was so pissed they got scooped by the Globe I also got extended coverage in the Milford Daily News.

I never got this much ink before, when I was just going to the damn meetings. Clearly, a new p.r. strategy is in order, to consolidate this newfound power base. At the very least, I should be able to lock up the local clumsy invalid vote by fall, no problemo. From there, the only limit is the imagination - or my internal organs, whichever I run out of first.

Brilliant strategy! Maybe you could get Gerald Ford to do an endorsement??

*laughing*

"Town Councillor"?

Do your constituents know that you spend state time hanging out with a buncha drunk perverse monkeys? I bet not.

And I smell hush money.

Well there was the time that my plane to Hawaii hit a flock of seagulls on takeoff and had to turn around immediately, dump fuel and land. And then there was the time that I was flying back from Mexico and they had to make an emergency landing in Tucson, AZ because the pilot had had a heart attack.

But apart from those two times, nothing really much.

Really, it's a wonder that I fly at all.

Always wondered what happened to A Flock of Seagulls.

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