Them Two Times I Got My Nose Broke

When I say Sid was a big kid, I'm not so sure that's exactly correct.  When he transferred in from LA, they told the teachers he was 16, but yeah, right.  The big part was a given, but he always looked like he needed to shave.  I think his parents fudged the numbers.  Maybe it was because he was too old to be in high school legally, or maybe it was just to spare him the embarrassment of being in a class with kids four years younger than he was.

At any rate, I pissed Sid off, and he broke my nose -- two solid left hooks, from way down below his knees, and lest you say those long windups must've left an opening for me to poke him with my right, I was pretty drunk, he was twice my size, I had it coming, and I'm not half as stupid as I look.

We had all been out partying in the adobe hills, and we ended up at the 3.2 bar back in downtown Olathe.  With apologies to those who think it's the greatest place in the world, Olathe Colorado is one of those places kids can't wait to get out of when they graduate high school.  Sandwiched in between two larger towns, its residents go elsewhere to shop, work and play.  It's a ghost town with live people in it.  Oh, God, is it a drag.  The 3.2 bar was the hot spot.

Being only 17, I wasn't supposed to be drinking beer, especially in an establishment that had a license to protect.  Still, we were already a bit loopy when we got there, and I wasn't thinking about the consequences of my actions.  So a couple of times when someone came back to the pool table with a full beer, I'd wait until his back was turned, down it, and put 50 cents down next to it.  This annoyed the owner of the beer, but I only did it twice and I got away with it both times.  After a bit, I decided it was time for me to go home, so I left the beer joint and headed for my car.  When I got there I was quite surprised to see a blanket bouncing up and down in the back seat.

Okay, this was my car -- my personal property -- and I didn't remember giving anyone permission to use it as a trampoline.  And yes, I was quite annoyed, but even the young idiot I was had enough sense not to knock on the window and say "What the hell."  That's the kind of thing you do if you like to fight, and not only do I not like to fight -- never have never will -- but in my mind fighting is something dogs do.

So I walked back into the bar and asked around.  In a place as boring as downtown Olathe I'm sure the spectacle of two people having sex in the back of a car parked right out in front of a brightly lit up bar -- this isn't something that would have escaped the notice of everyone inside, and I was right.  It turns out it was Sid, and another person whose name I never caught and wouldn't say here anyway, out of respect.

So I had another beer and waited it out.  It seemed like an unusually long time for these sorts of things, and I guess I have to hand them credit for that, if nothing else.  After a while I looked back over towards the front of the bar and saw Sid and his friend sitting at the table there.  Finally.  I was plenty tired and ready to go to bed. 

On the way out the door I should've kept my mouth shut, but that's 48-year-old Ron looking back, not 17-year-old Ron.  I paused and asked in uncharacteristically blunt terms whether he'd gotten a blanket out of the back my car.  He nodded.  I left.  He followed me out.

I never did see a doctor to get my nose fixed.  Doctors were expensive, and I was living on my own without a whole lot of money in my pocket.  And perhaps it was just as well, since experience has always been my best teacher.  I don't listen for beans.  I do, I see what happens, and I make the necessary adjustments.  Going out drinking with Sid and his friends was not a good idea, nor was drinking at a bar underage, nor was driving a mile and a half home full of beer and missing the better part of a pint of blood.  Those were hum-dingers of mistakes, and walking around with a bent nose helped me focus on which adjustments I needed to make.

Oh yeah, the following morning with my head clear I remembered one more thing.  Earlier that evening he had asked me if I'd mind if he ever borrowed my car.  I said my insurance didn't allow anyone else to drive my car and he said, "No, no, I mean if me and my old lady needs some privacy you know?"  Apparently I had said yes, and clearly I had forgotten soon afterward.

Since high school I have spent as little time at Olathe Colorado as possible.  I've heard this and that happened to Sid, but it's really none of my business.  That was one of the lessons I learned.

The nose really didn't look all that bad, if my romantic fortunes over the next few years were any indication.  Oh, when I looked in the mirror I was terribly self-conscious about it, but that's only because I knew what it looked like beforehand.  At no point did I have any health insurance and I thought doctors were way too expensive when compared to the services they provided.  Life has since taught me that particular opinion has no merit.  Having a hernia, having a tree fall on you, developing tendonitis by using a poor quality mouse -- these things will acquaint you with the wonders modern medicine has to offer.

I think it was about six years later, I was spending the summer scrounging up firewood and then driving around the campgrounds at night selling it to the tourists.  It was great fun.  Selling the wood piece by piece brought in about $80 a night, big money for someone who lived in a lean-to in the woods. 

I chose just the right product to maximize their camping experience -- dry, crisp pinion branches broken into short lengths.  It wouldn't have been the same if I cut them up with a chainsaw.  It looked more rustic with the ends broken and jagged.  And it was a terribly macho thing explaining to people that I broke them with a sledgehammer.  "It's easier that way, you know" I'd say.

So, one afternoon I was out by myself, breaking up pinion branches with my splitting maul.  I had to swing hard to break them, and at the same time I had to be very nimble and alert so I could jump back and get out of the way when the two ends of the branch flew up in the air.

Does that sound dangerous to you?  I mean, four-inch-thick pinion branches with jagged ends flipping around in the air?  It sure does to me, but that's hindsight for you.

I walked up to a branch segment that would make four nice foot long pieces.  First I'd need to break it in the middle, so I reared back and gave it a hearty smack.  One of the ends spun up in such a way as to pop me hard in the face, wheel around, and bonk me in the back of the head.  Actually, it must've been a whole lot more violent than I make it sound, but it sure did the trick.  Knowing I had only a few seconds before I needed to lay down, I ran over and looked at myself in the truck mirror.

"Yes!"

The chunk of wood had broken my nose, this time coming at me from the opposite direction that Sid did.  Straightened it right out it.  I reset it as best I knew how, and then laid back on the ground and laughed for about 20 minutes.  Did I think about the dangers of breaking tree branches without anyone else around?  Did I think that losing consciousness out of the woods without anyone around might not be the best thing?  No.  Not really.  All I could think of was that I had just straightened out my nose, and it hadn't cost me a dime.

Ah, youth.  I'm glad I survived it.

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