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A Dork's Thoughts on Creation

Christmas Capers

12/25/2014

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I think one of the most unfortunate things I heard this Christmas season was from my aunt:

We'll have to put your Christmas cookies in a blender with some milk.
They say Christmas is the time of year for sharing, for learning, and for loving. I didn't think that meant sharing my face with the linoleum, learning to handle myself in an emergency, and loving my girlfriend for holding my lost tooth and driving me to the dentist.

WARNING:   
Gorey Details Ahead


Picture
This is me. Two days ago.  

I'm sure by now you're wondering something to the effect of, "When did you join the fight club?  What kind of make-up are you using and for what show? I suppose all you want for Christmas is your two front teeth."

Yes, ha ha, you're all very funny, so give yourself a round of applause while you read what happened.  


Tuesday morning.  The morn of the eve of Christmas Eve.  I was walking through the mall on my way to work.  I was pretty early, and since my girlfriend had told me how much she loved the silly sunglasses of Claire's, I thought I may as well pick some  up as a cheap gift.  As I walked in, the only other customer, a middle-aged man, caught my eye.   It seemed odd to me that a gruff-looking man like him was in Claire's alone. I browsed through the cat-eye glasses and Happy New Year's frames when the man suddenly knocked into me.  He stumbled and murmured something like "Gettoughtamywayyou--(insert every profanity here.)"  I backed away, not wanting to cause a problem, but I tripped over his foot and brought him down with me.  I stood up and apologized profusely, thoroughly embarrassed, but he was clearly outraged.  The girls at the counter started screaming as he sobered to his feet and swung at me wildly, yelling vulgarities about my mother, and after his first direct hit smashed me into a gondola, I punched him smack in the face and on his crumbling way to the ground, he pulled my coat and brought me down face-first on the counter, thus knocking out my tooth.  

Nahh, just kidding. But that would have been awesome.  It's actually closer to home and unfortunately crazier than that.  Here's the story:

Tuesday.  The morn of the eve of Christmas Eve. I was alone in the new apartment.  I had been awake for a few hours because of a workout that burned away all my calories from the previous weekend of traditional family Christmas gorging. As I was about to sit down for my first meal of the day, someone knocked on my door.  It was Dan, the only person I had met so far who lives in my building.  He awkwardly asked if I had any eggs, which I found to be very strange at 11:00 AM, but he said that he and his fiancé were baking cookies for the family, and they had to leave soon.  I don't normally have eggs, but I knew that my roommate had mentioned getting them the other day, so I turned around to check the fridge.  Dan followed me into the kitchen, and proceeded to shove my head into the milk jug, grab my keys off the hanging key rack, and run!

Dazed, I yelled after him and chased him down the hallway.  He was almost out of my sight as he bolted down the stairs.  As I descended, I looked out the window and saw him heading into the Club building.  I burst into the Club, surprising the attendants, who pointed down the stairs towards the natatorium (the room with the pool in it; thank you Google).  I leapt down after Dan and saw him fumbling for his keys to get out the back door. I ran up to him and turned his back toward me, but he reflexively jabbed me in the face.  I stumbled backwards as he mumbled something about not meaning to do it, and proceeded to unlock the door.  Fortunately, I shook off the blow just in time to grab the man and throw him into the pool.  

Yes, I know.  Seriously. I'm awesome.  But it didn't end there.  

At this point, I'm like "What the freak, man? What kind of person are you?!" and as I wiped the blood off my face, he climbed out of the pool.  The pool was between us.  The door was behind me... The hot tub was behind him.   Dripping wet, he said to me something like "Look, man... It's either me, or the keys."  He took out my keys and threw them into the hot tub.  I knew I had to get them before the vents swallowed them up, so I ran.  He ran the same direction I did and clearly intended to make this difficult for me.  I did a little chasse & pas de bouree to sidestep and spin around him,  and I jumped into the hot tub as he ran out the door.  It took me a few minutes to find my keys because the jets had blown them around, but I got em.  And then, after I finally got out of the hot tub... I blacked out and landed face first on the linoleum and woke up in my apartment bathroom with blood all over me and a missing tooth.

Okay, I'll be honest, that's not ENTIRELY true.  I do know a guy named Dan in my building, and I did spend time in the hot tub.  But you believed me for a while, didn't you?! 

Fine.

Here's the truth:
Picture
Tuesday.  The morn of the eve of Christmas Eve. I was alone in my new apartment.  I arise  after another night on the couch/bed. The previous weekend, I had filled up with several Christmas dinners, so I was ready to burn it all off.  I considered eating breakfast before working out, but decided that any more food would upset the tenuous balance between ab-work and stomach-grumblies.  Thus, I did my sit-ups, leg lifts, and the like, and then headed over for my first exciting  experience at the pool in the apartment.  I swam for 20 minutes before hopping into the hot tub for a long-awaited relaxation. I sat in there for 3 minutes when a man named Dan came and joined me.  I remained for another 2 minutes.  At noon, I went into the bathroom to shower, and I began to feel light-headed.  I sat in the shower in my swimsuit with the water on cold and waited for it to pass.  It didn't.  I sat on a bench in the bathroom for a few more minutes.  I realized it wasn't going away and I needed to lie down, but I was in the natatorium (the room with the pool; thank you Google), so I had to get back to my apartment.  I stood up... And blacked out.  

  I don't remember much after that, so the consensus is that I face-planted the floor in the bathroom.  I have vague images of crawling up the stairs, fumbling for my keys, and seeing my reflection in the mirror.  I find it strange that not a single person in the apartment saw me and tried to help, as I had to crawl up the stairs, out the door, across the street, into the building, up another flight of stairs, and down the hall to get into my room.  Up until then, I remember thinking "Wow, this is a vivid dream!  I can't wait to wake up and tell people about this."  But when I saw my face... Reality struck.  I was horrified.  My front tooth was dangling and the other was cracked in half.  My face was covered in blood.  It was probably one of the scariest moments of my entire life, because I seriously thought my life was ending.  Well, if not my physical life, my life as I knew it.  I thought about how I could never be an actor or a mime again, because no one wants a disgusting 1-toothed mime.  Yes, real thoughts. Silly thoughts, but frighteningly real thoughts. I still keep thinking about that. 

I pulled out my tooth the rest of the way and threw it in the trash.  I grabbed toilet paper and wiped most of the blood off my face, crumpled to the floor, and called my mom.  She called my girlfriend who came and cleaned me up (including forcing me to change clothes, to which I thought "this is not how I wanted her to see me naked" so I made her look away).  She found my tooth in the trash can and took me to the dentist.  That's how you know your ladyfriend loves you: she holds your tooth while you bleed. They were able to stick the tooth right back in its socket, repair the cracked one with bonding material, and send me to urgent care for my other wounds (see slideshow).  
In the end, everything seems fine. My mom and my sister came and brought me home, cared for me, and were generally awesome.  Besides the pain in my lip, the constant saliva drool, and lack of speaking ability, I'm okay.  I've got both my teeth back to normal, and I'm just waiting on the recovery of my abrasions.  Next week I have a root canal to seal my tooth in place. On Christmas Eve, my lady came up to my house to wish me a merry Christmas and take care of me some more while my parents were at work.  I couldn't have made it through this without my sister, mom, and ladyface.

Needless to say... It's been a rough Christmas.  Today at another Christmas party, it was difficult to eat all the yummy food, because I had to cut it all into bits and throw my head back so the food didn't touch my front teeth.  I felt and looked like a bird.  Most of the conversations I had were about my face.  Not only that, but a lot of my other family members were sick or couldn't make it to the party, which was sad to see too.  It wasn't just me that has had trouble.  And, based on my conversations on Facebook and in person, I clearly have the love and support of all my friends and family, which is what makes Christmas into what it is.  

A large lesson I have learned in all this (besides the importance of eating before hot tubs) is how high I value appearances.  With my face like this, I don't want to show anyone or go anywhere.  It's hard, but I am forcing myself.  I found that joking about it isn't as easy as I hoped, and  I have an immense fear of being mocked or of knocking my tooth out again. While difficult to digest and hard to share, I have found that the positives and the negatives about the whole situation seem to be overshadowed by the mere fact that...

 IT'S CHRISTMAS.   

This is certainly a year that I will never forget.  Thanks for reading.

As for the two phony stories, I will be telling them to people who ask about my injury in the future.  Except you.  You're in-the-know.  :)
Picture
I'll never have bigger lips than I do right now.
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    Joshua Zapata-Palmer:
    Film & Theater Artist

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    I think you know what this is. It's a stick-up! Unload those pockets, pretty boy. I ain't got time for this loosey-goosey passive-aggressive subscription service; just gimme all yo' cash, diamonds, rolexes, return labels, and sentimentally valued selections of cheese. All of it. Capisce?
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