Hobbling.

I twisted my left ankle last night, badly. Today, I'm limping around. Every time I stop, it stiffens up. It then takes about ten steps to reacquaint myself with the pain and get moving again.

This is what I get for being distracted when walking down the steps into friend O's apartment. It was a Bugs Bunny moment. One second I'm up, next I'm on my ass. If only I hadn't studied gravity.

Pain.

It didn't stop us from carrying on with our plans, to grab drinks. I managed to motor over to "g" from Union Square Park. Pain. We had a quick drink but O wanted to check out Secret on 29th between 10th and 11th. So we hoofed on over there. Pain. Secret is a cool space. It's the new bar from the owner's of Hell, formerly down in the meatpacking district. Secret is off the beaten path. We nearly missed it. It was empty when we arrived, but then it was only 8:30, way too early for the city crowd. Pain. We had a few more drinks there as the bartender, Enrique, chatted with us and gave us a shot. He had a shot as well, I told him I wouldn't do it unless he did. It was a lemon drop. Shudder. I don't think he made it right but it made me feel fuzzy. Pain. Enrique was cool and cute. I'll be back at Secret again.

Lastly, O dragged me along to glass on 10th Ave where P was having a cocktail party. Pain. I grabbed another drink and before I could finish it, I'd concluded the pain was too much to bear. O felt badly but asked if he'd be a bad friend if he didn't go back with me to his apartment so I could collect my bags. "No," I said. I felt foolish for having hurt myself anyhow. I hopped into a cab and headed back. O's BF was at the apartment. I chatted, he inspected the swelling on my ankle, I promised not to sue and I went home.

Pain.