The DMG: The Dorkmaster General

Remember how I said you should all be sure to tune in today for my big download on Galloway v. Hitchens? I hope you've all been patient today waiting for the post, because you're not going to get it! How dare I, you ask?

Well, because I'm a dork. And let me tell you why.

So there I am, all set to go over to Baruch College at 6:00 yesterday. I was going to get there early so I could get a ringside seat. So I tear out of my apartment and go hauling down the sidewalk on the way over to grab the F Train. Listening to my iPod (a Tears for Fears song was playing, I believe). Got my cellphone out, trying to send a text message. The quintessential wired New Yorker multi-tasking every second of his life. So the scene is set.

So, some....woman...was in my way... a slow-walker mind you, and I go for the lefthand sidewalk pass which I have patented during my time in New York. As I'm in mid-pass, I step on some uneven pavement (this city's infrastructure is a disaster, I tell you!) and my right ankle buckles. I'm sent sprawling to the ground in absolute agony. My glasses go flying to the concrete, my cellphone case breaks open and the battery spills out. My pants are torn on the left knee. My bag tumbles into the street and you hear the faint sound of "Everyboooody waaaants to ruuuuuule the worrrrrld" emanating from the headphones. Ms. Slow Walker looks back in horror: "Are you OK?" "Uh...yeah. I just twisted my ankle." She walks on, probably thinking "What a dork." I slowly collect myself and my things, with my ankle feeling some very familiar waves of pain.

A little aside here. I have had a lifetime of ankle pain. I have sprained my ankles so many times that I couldn't even venture an estimate. And when I say sprains, I mean pretty serious ones. Ones that put me on crutches. As a result, my ankle ligaments have become quite stretched-out over the years and are quite "loose." So for example, one time I was talking on the phone in the kitchen. Just standing there, minding my own business. And my ankle buckled. I sprained it. Standing still. So I've got what you might call, a "weak base."

Back to the story...so I stand up and try to put weight on it and although its very painful, it's doable. So I start thinking. "Do I try to push on or do I just bag Galloway-Hitchens?" Without making a decision I start hobbling back to my place. But in a couple minutes my ankle stabilized some, although it still hurt quite a bit. So now I decide I'm gonna try to get over to Baruch. "I'm a gamer. A grinder." So I gingerly walk down to the F. I am now....a slow-walker. Irony. You gotta love it.

So I board the train and look at my watch, and realize that there is almost no way I'm going to make it in time. It's now 6:30 and the thing starts at 7:00. So I start thinking again. "Do I get off at 23rd Street and hobble the four blocks to Baruch? Do I get off somewhere and try a cab? If I'm late, will they let me in? Will there be seating or will I have to stand on my bum ankle?" The ankle is starting to swell and stiffen, so any of the ankle-related issues become the de facto decision rules. So I get off at Second Ave. and decide to take the bus, because it stops right in front of Baruch and it's a more direct route than the meandering F train. Now I'm waiting at a bus stop. And waiting. And waiting. The thing finally comes and we're off....for two blocks and a stop. And then a traffic light. And then another two blocks and a stop. And a traffic light. "It's green now. We're not moving. It's green and we're not moving. What are we doing here, jocko? Oh, I just felt the bus lower to bring a wheelchair passenger on board. Great. It's green. It's green! Now it's not. Damn wheelchair guy. Guy probably has a bad ankle." So we finally make it to 23rd at around 7:10. Now I'm hobbling toward the theater. No one out front. Doors are locked! Great. "It's full, everyone's inside and they've locked the doors. I've come all this way for nothing. Hitch is probably calling Galloway a Baathist as we speak!" Sweating profusely, I walk around to the dormitory entrance on Lex. I go up to the security desk and explain I'm there for the debate and ask how to get into the theater. "They didn't tell us about any debate. Hmmmm. What time is it?" I breathlessly reply, "IT'S NOW. RIGHT NOW. IT STARTED AT 7. HOW DO I GET IN? SEE, HERE'S THE PRINT-OUT FOR THE EVENT. IT STARTS AT 7."

"Sir, it says the event is on the 14th and today is the 7th."

"Oh."

So, bottom line: no soup for you today. Check back on the 15th. And I'm about to go back to resting the ankle now. It became pretty swollen during the night and is now quite a bit more painful. I imagine from all that....walking...I did on it last night.

Love,
The Dorkmaster General.