Skip to main content

In addition to soccer I also began riding my bike outside with increased frequency. From the time that Alireza had stayed with us I remembered one particular incident in which he excitedly told me how he bounced in and out of a pothole at the beginning of our street and still managed to keep complete control of the bike. I rode my bike up to the beginning of the street, passing the pothole on my way and turned around. I let the bike pick up speed and without any hint of applying the breaks rode right into the pothole. My results were significantly different that Alireza’s. I flew off my bike, over the handlebars and landed on the rough pavement, scraping myself all over my body. I walked my bike home, and as I looked over the many spots on my body that were oozing blood, I concluded that this must have been another one of Alireza’s fibs.


Comments

Popular posts from this blog

"My parents, brother, and I left Iran in 1980, shortly after the revolution. After a brief stay in Italy, we packed all our belongings once again and headed west to the exotic and the unknown: Vancouver. We had recently been accepted as landed immigrants, meaning Canada graciously opened its doors and we gratefully accepted; we arrived at Vancouver International Airport on my 10th birthday, three suitcases and one sewing machine in tow. After respectful but intense questioning at immigration, we were dropped off at a hotel on Robson Street, which was then still a couple years shy of becoming the fashionable tourist hub it is today. We were jetlagged, culture shocked, and hungry, so that first night, my father and brother courageously ventured out into the wild in search of provisions. I fell asleep before they returned. The next morning, I woke up at 5 a.m. and ravenously feasted on a cold Quarter Pounder with cheese and limp French fries that had been left by my beds...
Stacey was a nurse so Kurt knew she would be able to give him a pretty good idea of how critical it was. On the other hand her knowledge of medical jargon could make her words seem foreign to Kurt. “He’s sustained two injuries. The first one was right on impact, his brain was shaken around pretty badly. It might have even rotated and perhaps nerve fibers were stretched and veins and arteries might have torn too. The second one is an open wound where the skull broke. The brain is exposed in that area. He was probably hit by some kind of sharp object during the collision.” Stacey unsuccessfully tried to disguise a horrifying yelp that she let out. “It's possible the area around the wound is undamaged. He might be facing long-term disabilities. He’s lost a lot of blood and his blood pressure has really dropped from the trauma. He’s really weakened by the blood loss. Plus there’s the loss of oxygen to the brain. The damage may be catastrophic. And then there’s infection…” “When w...
One day I took the minibus back from school. It was completely packed yet I somehow managed to squeeze myself in. I knew sooner or later some people would get off and per the unwritten rule of busses and minibuses everyone would gradually move towards the end of the bus and thus save me from getting crushed against the door. We had only travelled a short distance when the minibus stopped to let some passengers off. Another passenger and I stepped down to allow them to pass and as we stood there the passenger suddenly exclaimed, “What happened to my wallet? Did someone just steal it?” I wasn’t sure if he was serious or just making a not-so-comical scene about not identifying which pocket his wallet was in, however, it soon became apparent that his wallet was indeed missing. Initially I briefly considered the possibility that he might have suspected me as the pickpocket and thus directed the earlier conversation towards me. Once we were back on the bus though he repeated his commen...