Today, my friend Justin crashed at Tour of Gila in New Mexico and broke his arm and wrist.
I wouldn’t have known this except that his girlfriend, Erin, called me because Justin didn’t have his phone at the ER and was trying to get a message to his teammate Nate. He had called her, because he knew her number I’m assuming. Erin thought I might have Nate’s number or that Steve definitely would since they’re all teammates. Steve wasn’t picking up his phone, but I did have Nate’s girlfriend’s number from a bike stage race last summer. So I text messaged Kim; she called Nate; Nate went and picked up Justin.
The wonders of technology. Or something.
In some ways, it’s amazing we ever know when something bad happens. I’ve been in that situation, where the doctors let you out of the ER and say ‘ok go home’. And you’re like, ‘no one knows I’m here, I don’t have anyone’s number, where exactly am I suppose to go?’
But, eventually, somehow, everyone pulls together and someone shows up and takes you home. And someone makes you food. And someone drives you to your doctor’s appointment. And someone gets your work and brings it to you. And someone talks to the waiter while you lay in the booth and stare at the ceiling.