"How I damaged my shoulder"

Or "Strings is a clutzy idiot, who should keep wheels from between his feet and the ground"...

Several years back, I used to hang out at the local comic shop. One of my friends there and I were rabid roller-bladers: five miles a day during the week, and several circuits of the city on weekends. We raced each-other in what can only be termed "suicide courses": down steep, grassy hills. Through traffic. Over and around every possible obstacle we could find. Rules were simple: the clock didn't stop until you a) reached the finish, or b) died...

One day, we started getting nostalgic, and recalled the fun we used to have playing lazer tag. And Jeff remembered where his gear was stored. He ran home, while i ran to the store for batteries.

Now, we weren't really expecting anything spectacular. We figured (at best) to have some fun with the kids. Unfortunately, the kids were sharp: they wanted us handicapped (because we were experienced players). The lines were drawn: Jeff and I vs roughly 10 lil' kids. The kids allowed us one aid in our handicap...

Wondering why I suddenly started talking about lazer tag? They tie together: the kids said we could play while on our blades. I think the kids were smarter than we were...

Game went fairly well at first: Jeff or I would swoop in faster than the kids could run, and hit 'em a bunch of times. A good number of the kids were out, when I made what was THE bone-headed manuver of the game: while coasting along, I twisted to shoot at one kid who was behind me...

There was no reason for me to do this: the old tag sets did NOT have sensors on the backs, so junior wasn't a threat. Jeff was coming from the same direction I was heading, and would undoubtedly take the boy out. But I let myself get too competitive...

As my pistol lined up (I DID hit my target), my body suddenly got conflicting orders. My lower body got the memo "keep going", but my upper body decided that it didn't want to move anymore. One of the observers described it as looking like I had run into a chest-high bar: my legs just suddenly swung up, and I fell straight down... :(

I spent the next couple weeks in a sling (still 'blading, mind you). And now, every once-in-awhile, my shoulder goes wiggy. In my defense, the injury was worse than it could've been: I was too busy saving the gun to save myself.


For now, we won't talk about the other 'blading injuries I've sustained over the years (at some point, we may discuss Spoon's try-out for the Brickcapades)...