You’re officially a New Yorker when
- You’ve lived here for at least 8 years
- You’ve gotten punched in the face by a homeless man (or woman)
- You’ve gotten hit by a car
I was branded an “Official New Yorker” after checking #3 off my list on Monday.
It started off like any other beautiful fall day. I walked my dog Oliver, went to work, and then took an excellent acting class. I decided to walk home and let the day soak in. I put my phone and headphones away so I could take in the city in silence. Often, New York is so overwhelming that music and cell phones are a nice distraction from the chaos, but on Monday I felt like taking it all in. Just as I was thinking, “God, this city is gorgeous…”
Some dude literally made a left turn into my body. He was busy trying to cut off the guy to his right, and was thus ignoring the pedestrian to his left (me). Serves me right for wanting to take it all in.
He hit my entire right side. I was knocked down onto the street, but I managed to stand back up. I had a few bumps and bruises and a gimpy foot that I must have rolled on my way down. Because I couldn’t tell if the foot was broken or sprained, and I because don’t have health insurance, I went to the hospital on the driver’s dime. Just in case.
Firemen, EMT’s, and police were sent to file the report and carry me around. It was kind of ridiculous, but also kind of hot. I took an ambulance to a hospital 7 blocks from my apartment. The EMT said he’d come to my next comedy show. You know me, always making friends where ever I go.
When we got to the hospital, I gave the EMT a clementine that was in my bag (it was the least I could do) and checked in. The lady at the check-in complimented my recent pedicure, which I thought was sweet. Finally, I was called in to meet a cute Jewish doctor, my mother’s dream. He asked me to take my pants off so he could examine me more closely. I would like to take this time to thank the Randomly-Getting-Hit-By-A-Car Gods for putting decent underwear on me that morning and shaving my legs the day before. Thank you.
All in all, I’m fine. The whole thing could have been much worse. I’m moving slowly, but I’m moving. Although I think New York is a giant asshole for trying to bring me down, I am also really impressed with how efficient everyone was. The driver who hit me pulled over and waited with me, I got a compliment on my feet, and the EMT is a now my Facebook friend.
Look, we live in a big city where anything can happen. So here are a few words of advice from me to you: Always wear cute underwear, get regular pedicures, and be careful out there!