Making a great first impression
After a reasonable amount of time in a LDR, it was high time to remove the LD part so I moved towns and moved in. Quite agreeable, yet as to be expected, there's a certain amount of time it takes to get used to someone else being around. As luck would have it, a mate of mine had also moved towns and was having a house-warming party that next weekend. Ideal time to take a breather...

Show up at 3pm in the afternoon, take it easy, just a couple of beers, then move on to the wine. Tipsy-ish around 6pm but still fine. Someone starts passing around a bottle of scotch but it's declined. We break out of there at 8pm, stop off at the local restaurant for a final pint for the road. It occurs to me that I'm bouncing off the walls when I pay a visit to the leakeria, but I'm still able to speak so it's not all over just yet. Nevertheless, the well-tuned* beer barometer still says it's about time to get my sorry ass home while I still can.

I set off with my trusty bike, downhill towards home... it's still daylight... only then it isn't. I come to and the sky is pitch black. There are blue lights flashing around and I have no clue what the fuck just happened. Struggle to get upright, and can't - I'm bound to a fucking stretcher. My weary brain gives up - get loaded into the back of the van, fade out... next thing I know I'm in a giant metal tube that's making weird noises... fade out again... someone takes my hand and starts asking me if I'm ok... guess who, it's the new woman. Oh bugger - how the fuck'd she get here?! And they won't let me go home (doubtful if I could walk anyway). Fade to black...

The next morning I wake up to find the stuff I'm not wearing any longer tucked neatly in a plastic bag. Plus a business card from the Plod. At least nothing was nicked, nor did I manage to crush my phone or smash my watch. Small mercies.

Turns out that despite walking the bike home, I'd just blacked out after just a couple of streets. Fortunately not wandering into the path of any moving vehicles, nor causing any damage to anything, parked vehicles or otherwise. They'd hauled me off into hospital, breath-tested me (210mg/100ml - good score!), gave me a CT scan and a bunch of xrays, meanwhile worked out who I was and despatched the Plod to where I lived. The new lady, who was probably already wondering where the fuck I was, was treated to a visit at 10pm by a couple of coppers who didn't really have the full story, only that I was down the ER with head injuries. Which to be fair could have been a lot more serious than it actually was.

Picked up the (undamaged) bike from the plod later on; gave a statement on which the answer to most of the questions was "I haven't got a fucking clue". Banned from cycling for three months... plus a fine - so much for making a good impression. I know already that this will be talked about for years to come...

* it must have lost its calibration - fucking thing was useless that day!
(airbiscuit last dropped a meaty one in the lift on, Tue 19 Feb 2013, 8:13, Reply)