So, me and my friends went to an Irish speaking pub last week called Club Conradh na Gaeilge and had the craic there, had some drinks, spoke Irish, played trad music and all, and eventually it came time to leave and the only option of transport back to the town where we're in university was the first train back in the morning.... at 5.30 am. And so we decided to go on a photograph-documented adventure around our capital city!! Yaaay!!
Along this journey, at the Central Bank in Dublin to be precise, two of the friends jumped up on these benches to pose, and not to be left out, I followed. However, I mistimed my running jump (obviously a bad idea to begin with), landed badly, and after a failed balancing act worthy of the stair-scene in Hitchcock's Psycho, fell over backwards and landed on my hand- a moment captured perfectly on camera to haunt me for the rest of my days. Needless to say I did a little bit of pained moaning about how I'd broken my hand until one of the friends, recovering from her laughter told me it wasn't broken and to get over it. And so I believed her, and we carried on.
And obviously, in a logical follow-on step, as we crossed the Ha'penny bridge over the river Liffey, I jumped up, grabbed onto the arch and proceeded to swing out of the arch as my friend took a picture, all the while as I complained that my hand and wrist were really sore and they were definitely sprained from that fall. But hey, I'm not one to quit on an adventure for a little bit of pain, so on we went, climbing into a stolen trolley we found and carting round in it til we saw a garda and decided to dispose of the evidence down an alley- hey we didn't steal it in the first place! In addition to this, I hung upside-down out of a lamp post...very strong legs, good gripping ability y'know. However, the cherry on top was to follow.
At the Spire in Dublin, guess who decided it would be a genuinely brilliant idea to do a handstand up against it?? Of course it was me. And so I did. And rather than the elegant gymnastic display which I'm sure you assumed followed, my injured hand and wrist buckled underneath me and I crumpled spectacularly. Rolling over just in time for another photo to be taken.
Hungover and in agony the next day, I made my way to the doctor who told me she couldn't send me for an x-ray in Dublin because it would be hectic and I'd be in there all day, unless I really had nowhere else to go. And so I rang my dad, in a conversation that went.
"Hey Dad, what're you up to?"
"Oh nothing much, not busy at all really...."
"Oh good. Can you collect me from college and bring me to hospital, the doc thinks I have a broken hand."
....silence...."oh.....ok then...I'll be there in an hour"
One week and a half later I am sitting here in pain in a soft cast- one of those splint things, waiting for Thursday morning when I will be getting the x-ray redone in my hand because apparently there was too much swelling and the couldn't see the suspected broken bone properly in the x-ray...which doesn't look good for the intactness of the bone...obviously...
The moral of the story is. If you're drunk and in Dublin time your jumps better....or just don't jump.
..also, handstands with broken hands hurt.