A few years ago I went with a friend to Ireland for St. Patricks day. Being a beer lover this is one of those trips that everyone simply has to do.
The night before St. Patricks day we did what every red blooded Irishman does. We went out drinking! After several stops, and several beers, we ended up in a small quaint pub towards the end of the night. We proceeded to down a few more pints and decided to call it a night. Walking out of the bar there was a busy intersection. At this point I should point out that in Ireland they drive on the other side of the steet. In my haste to leave the bar I looked to see if a car was coming as I crossed the street. Looking the wrong way I made a mad dash about 10 feet in front of my friends. Before I could get up a full head of steam a car came barelling out of what I thought to be nowhere. According to everyone else it was there as soon as I ran across the street. Anyways, I jumped up as the car slammed into my shins and I tumbled over the hood leaving a huge hole the size of my ass on the windshield. I rolled off the hood to the ground as the car stopped and immediately my friends and others came running towards me. The driver was furious but I tuned him out as I tried to gather my bearings. Luckily a nice Irish lass began talking to me. She explained she was a nurse and that an ambulance was on its way. As I lay on the ground with my right pinky completely sideways and my shins bleeding profusely the Irish lass looked at me calmly and proceeded to talk to me to make sure everying was alright. I might not have really remembered anything had it not been for what she asked me next in her thick Irish accent. “So how are your holidays.” I was so stunned I think I told her they were great. After this lovely exchange the ambulance finally arrived to pick me up.
When I arrived at the hospital I had no idea if I was hurt badly. The alcohol was doing its job and I pretty much felt ok. Had it not been for my finger looking like it was going to fall off I might have just left the hospital. I waited around for a bit before they took some X-Rays. The doctor also proceeded to pop my mangled finger back into place and wrap my pinky and index finger together. He told me that the finger was actually not even broken but badly dislocated and probably worse than a break but that my shins were fine. He asked when I was returning to the states and told me I would need to see a doctor immediately. This worried me of course and I felt panic as he described this. It was now 4:00a in the morning and St. Patricks Day festivities would be starting later that day! I turned to the doctor and for the first time all night realized I might have serious issues. I asked, “Am I going to be all right?” He replied, “do this for me.” He motioned his hand as if he were holding a glass. With my mangled taped together fingers I repeated what he was doing. His last words to me as I cupped my hand were, “If you’re able to hold a pint of Guiness you’ll be fine.” You gotta love an Irish doctor!
Later that day I limped around Dublin, beer in hand and enjoyed St. Patricks Day. Sure I dripped a little blood on the floor from the shin wraps that kept coming off. But I brought extra’s. A little blood wasn’t going to spoil a good beer!
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