Wounded Knees

I left for work at around 8:00 am. Trekking Gorordo Street everyday, I knew the route like the back of my hands. 80kph on Escario Street, 60 on Gorordo and 30 near JY Square would get me to the office on time.

Ok, let’s cut to the chase. I figured in a road accident…

Yes, that’s what this post is all about. A car was trying to make a U-turn to get to my side of the road. As a defensive driver and a Cebuano who genuinely believes that assholes should be given all the consideration that they need, I stepped on the brakes to stop.

Well, instead of JUST stopping, the traitor of a road swept me off my bike. I landed on the wet, slimy, and god-forsaken pavement with a very loud thud after I lost the most part of my knee caps. My bike earned a busted headlight, deformed stepknots and a right to have its wheels realigned.

Me, on the other hand, after trying to pick myself up and hide from the freaks beginning to gaze at me, could only look at my bleeding palm and knees. I desperately needed help. I was bleeding for crying out loud! But no! I was a visual treat! I should never be touched. They should only watch me. I fucking totally understand! Woohoo!

So, with the remaining strength, I pushed my bike to the side of the road and looked for my hanky to stop the bleeding. The traffic, which was temporarily blocked flowed again. I was so easily a thing of the past.

Only one security guard approached me and started pinching my arms and legs. “Are you all right?” He asked. “Do I look like I’m dead to you?”

I began the second half of my journey on my bike with wheels tilting 45 degrees. And with bleeding knees, by the way, which ached like hell.

Good thing I did not find any hole on my shorts. My last pair for the week. If I saw just one freakin hole, I would have cried and hoped I was dead.

Written 2005