This Shoulda' Killed Me

Upon arriving in Los Angeles, I was greeted by clear blue skies, temperatures in the 90’s and smog so thick that I couldn’t tell where it ended and the mountains began (that changed as I rode FlyAway closer to downtown).

Yeah, I was happily back in the City of Angels and thinking about the steps ahead of me… Get to Union Station and walk down the ramp to the Metro subway terminal, take Metro to the Julian Dixon transit center, walk up Fig 4 blocks to the Bonaventure. Check in.

Easy enough, right?

Oh, some of that went off without a problem. That walk, however, proved more difficult than it should have been. I employed my cane (which I’ve basically stopped using back at home) because of how uneven the ground would be. Between uneven sidewalk (not steep, just uneven) and a backpack stuffed full (along with a long sleeve shirt stuck in the top loop of the bag), that walk was a challenge. Oh, add to it the heat and you have the makings of quite an undertaking for someone like me.

But lets flash forward. After that walk my head was clearly out of place — not discouraged but I didn’t think I was paying well enough attention to where I was going and what was right in front of me. That brought back memories over and over again of my LAST visit to Los Angeles and my last stay at the Bonaventure hotel.

Not paying attention, poor balance due to uneven surfaces, etc, etc. It had all contributed to my literal downfall.

I checked in, unpacked my stuff and was hungry. I wanted to not only get a bite to eat but maybe snap some pictures somewhere. But the only place that came to mind was on the Bonaventure property. The skybridge crossing 5th street to National City Bank Plaza.

Post lunch (which I had at Flower Street mall underneath National City Bank plaza), I take the sky bridge across Fifth and behold the scene of the crime:

Lemme use my own words from what happened to recount the accident:

So I find this exit to a skybridge — whoo hoo! — and start walking down a long corridor with skylights. I ignorantly think I am on the skybridge itself (the Bonaventure has several and ALL are uncovered) when in fact I am walking beneath the pool deck/patio of the building.

So I come to the end of that hall and find a pair of double doors saying thank-you, leaving-the-hotel, blah-blah-blah…. I can see a flight of stairs down and a flight of stairs up a short distance in front of me. I swing those doors open and walk a few steps — never observing the two steps down immediately in front of me.

Anarchy ensues.

I tumble and smash my face into a concrete-ornamental-edging at the side of the wall. I wither and moan in pain. I’m shaking, I’m bleeding, I think I’ve broken my nose.

2400 miles from home, no family in the greater Los Angeles area… The gimp-with-a-limp has worked himself ineptly into a fine mess.

You look at that edging, you look at those steps… It’s all poured concrete, that’s a two foot drop between those steps and the next solid level. I may have called myself a “gimp-with-a-limp” but that was only partially the truth. I was a gimp-with-a-limp who had a major operation just about 3 months previously. Major neurological surgery and then an accident like this where you miss two steps and smash your nose into the edge of a solid concrete curb with full body force?

That fall should have killed me. Not could have, should have.

I commented on that post from last year, saying I’m barely swollen, no black and blues or anything. Just a little tender in the shnozz but that’s that.

I’d like to say, John, that you are one lucky son of a bitch. Someone out there likes you…

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