Hail to the Boot

This time last year I was donning "The Boot," which was a real pain-in-the-ass. My favorite professor called me "Hop-Along." I was even more late to class because I was limping. And I had to drive everywhere. But I did get a Faculty/Staff parking sticker, which was amazing for dining hall dinner-rush purposes.

When I first moved to New York and I realized the insane amount of walking involved, I couldn't help praying to God that I will never again drink two Yuenglings at once, jump into a pool in a formal dress, trip and fall down concrete steps, which would clearly end with my stepping other people's toes in the subway with a big, fat BOOT for broken feet.



And when I see someone who has been cursed with the BOOT, I want to reach out, touch the person on the shoulder and say, "I know how it feels, man. But it sucks way more for you than it did for me. SUCKA!"


Oh I am so going to be hit by a bus.

Or a taxi.

Or a biker, as in bicycler, which for the first time today, I almost was.