I Think St. Patty’s Date Hates Me

If you were wondering why there wasn’t a commute design post yesterday, it’s because I never got there. I rode my bike yesterday (sometimes I walk) and in the 1/2 mile between the train station and work I was the lucky example of what happens when bikes and cars mix.

The details are fuzzy, but to make a long, confusing story short, I thought I was door’ed (the thing that happens when a driver opens his/her door into a biker) but witness say I was hit from behind by an SUV. The SFPD is investigating.

I landed on my head and experienced a short concussion, so they took me to the ER to make sure my noggin was still intact. After checking out my head and a few other scrapes and bruises, they had me sit in the hallway for observation for a couple of hours.

Fun Fact: The ER in the hospital I was at is actually a pretty funny place on March 17. I had the pleasure to witness a guy insist to the ER staff that he didn’t need to wear clothes, and listened to the nurses sing Crack Kills to the tune of Love Hurts. It’s not cheap entertainment, but it is fun.

There are a few ironic pieces to this story 1) the guy opening his door was an plain-clothes policeman 2) the SUV was green. So why do I think that St. Patrick’s Day hates me? Last year on this same date, I was also in the hospital getting poked with needles because I had insanely high iron levels.

The good news from yesterday is that after delicious lunch and a nice long afternoon nap, we signed the lease to our new apartment in San Francisco. Now thats a good way to end a not-so-good day.

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