Lauren, Kopy, the FDR, my 2003 Nissan Sentra SER, and I have in no way been changed to protect the privacy of said parties.
It began like any normal Friday night: drinks at the bar for happy hour, good friends, good times. After a few hours and a few beers, we left the bar to head back to Brooklyn... little did we know that there was a huge accident on the FDR. Waiting in traffic is bad enough on a normal evening, waiting in traffic after numerous beers is even worse. We all had to use the rest room. Unfortunately, Kopy was the only one with the necessary machinery to alleviate himself outdoors with ease. And when he just couldn't take it any longer, Kopy did exactly that.
This was supposed to be the hard part: jump out of Nissan Sentra, run across the highway, find a private-esque spot, pull out your stuff and handle your business. Nope! Kopy made this easy. Like Michael Jordan making a layup against a kid with Polio. It seems the hard part came when Kopy made his way back to us. We saw him coming and with this much traffic we weren't moving so there was no rush. As he attempted the jump over the divider, his sloppy ass foot caught one side of it and his face bit the FDR like a fat kid at a cookout.
I gasped air as my hands covered my mouth. I wasn’t in shock - I was in tears! Now, let's be honest... we could all consider ourselves a good friend, but when something like this happens you cannot help but laugh... hard. I mean bellyaching, finger pointing, out loud laughing. If you could see me now, you would still see me laughing. He got up from the FDR and tried to wipe the gravel and pure embarrassment off before he got into the car. But it was too late. I was still laughing. Lauren, of course, being the faithful mother hen figure wanted to see his leg. I was still laughing. When he lifted up his pant leg; however, he exposed a massive gash that was very clearly nothing to laugh about. He was going to need stitches. When we finally got past the traffic, Kopy suggested that we take him to NYU Downtown Medical.
Lauren, like a good girlfriend wanted to stay with her man.
But in the words of a true American hero, Kopy replied, "Nah, no need. Go drinking with your friends. I’ll be fine." Tears welled up in my eye as he continued, "I'm used to this, Lauren. They know me in the emergency room. You go hang out with your friends and I'll meet up with you later." – What a man.
Lauren finally agreed and we dropped Kopy off at the emergency room entrance. We actually had to convince Kopy to take money from me for a cab ride home. This guy was actually considering taking the train home. We arrived at the hospital and for a moment I felt like those bad movie crack head friends who dropkick their overdosing friend out of the car while it's still moving, and then speed off to avoid getting in trouble. But that's what we did right before I popped a bad ass U-ey towards the Brooklyn Bridge – next stop Karaoke Bar on 25th. "Love is a Battlefield" here we come.
Got nothin' but love for ya, Kopy!
Moral of the story: Never laugh at your friends (until you're positive that they're not hurt).