Crutching It

Smash! There I was, lying in the middle of a road in Brightons North Laines district. After being introduced to a few people through a friend, it became obvious that I was in my drunken state, trying to show my superhuman powers by jumping through a window. At first it seemed like a good idea, much like Superman from that ‘Talk to Frank’ advert. Perhaps he too was suffering from a disorder; like the young, male testosterone filled one I was feeling the effects of.

Since watching that film ‘Fight Club’, it felt like a good soul searching way to spend my time, thinking of how I could prove myself alive, and fight the capitalist machine through self inflicted pain.

Not only did this fail miserably but my reliance on the very same system saved me from a six week long stretch confined to my bedroom. I was built into a lovely white cast and thrust into my hands a pair of crutches. What, you expect me to move around with these?

Not only was the pain involved with fracturing your furthest left metatarsal great, but so too was the
embarrassment of the fact I had lunged myself through a friends window and that I was now in the constant company of a new random street based companion every few minutes.

“some people actually move their bags from the spare seat so you can sit down”

I had never realized before that when you see someone who is using crutches, you are obliged to yell out to them how you “know how it feels” and ask them how they happened to cause the breakage. You also get some smashing special treatment; some people actually move their bags from the spare seat so you can sit down next to them on the bus or train, as though somehow I’m not as infectious as those normal people who threaten your daily existence.

Crutching around the place takes a great deal of effort and should really only be kept to indoors activities. Not only was it hard to move around but also things require a great amount of planning that you simply underestimate with normal, working body parts.