February 3rd, 2005


I'm in England now, and sitting at oreouk's computer (at least, I assume that demoneyes has another one of his own). The trip was, for the most part, remarkably uneventful and I even managed to get a bit of sleep on the plane (although more is scheduled for about 10 minutes from now). Lissa's directions were impeccable and everything went perfectly.

Until I got onto the escalator coming up from the Underground at London Bridge. I had my guitar in my left hand and was towing my suitcase behind me. This was just under 50 pounds of suitcase before I strapped my CPAP machine to it, making it thoroughly unbalanced. It didn't land correctly on a step. I tugged at it. It tugged back.

The next thing I knew, I was flying through the air. I landed on my right knee, scraping my forehead slightly on one step, and sending my glasses flying. The guitar vanished.

I found my glasses (which I was wearing so I could sleep on the plane without worrying about my contacts) on the step below my nose. They were fine. The suitcase was in front of me. I heard an ominous sliding noise behind me and turned around to see my guitar at the bottom of the escalator, trying frantically to get a purchase on a step and follow me back up.

I righted the suitcase. One gentleman stopped to help me; a couple retrieved my guitar and brought it up, then recovered my cellphone and wedding ring from where they'd fallen out of my pocket as I did a somersault. They asked if I was ok and I inventoried my bumps and thanked them and told them I was fine.

I headed over to Lissa's office where she bought me a soda and we swapped stories. Then I took her up on the offer of a key to the house and a ride back in from Phil later in the evening.

The inventory of injuries: a slight scrape at the hairline, a slightly sore knee with no apparent bruising, and one really big purple bruise on the tip of my right big toe.

I guess I know what I pivoted on as I went flying...