I was at the House of Hammer and Axe, which housed at least 6 of my friends over the course of a couple of years, including Kai, Beto, Kajander, Choi, and others. During this time, I lived at Shady Oaks in apartment 107, on my own. I loved it, although I was pretty unhealthy, and spent a good bit of my time getting weird. Anyway, we had been boozing all day at the house. It was fun. We barbequed. I don't remember cooking or eating, but I'm sure I did both. I was drinking beer, brand unknown, quantity unknown.
It became night time, and it was time for me to ride home. The ride was only about 2 blocks. I borrowed Kajander's bike. It had a flat tire. I didn't know or care. My flip-flopped food flipped over the pedal and my toes scraped along the concrete. I wasn't that worried about it. I made it home and performed some type of cleaning/protecting of my bloody toes. I went to bed.
The next morning, I got on an airplane headed for Atlanta. I was attending the International Reading Association's annual conference. I boarded the plane with bloody toes, attended the conference with bloody toes, and walked miles from the conference to my hostel with bloody toes. At the time, I felt alright about it, especially because I wanted to feel different from the hordes of teachers lugging giant sacks of free bullshit from the conference to the hotel to the braves game to the TGIFridays.
When I got back to Austin four days later, my feet were really swollen, presumably from all the walking in bad shoes and from (at least on one foot) infection from the scraped toes. My New Balance slippers were in a state of disarray. However, I had a fedora from Walgreens, and a man at the Food Mart said, "Nice brim." All in all, I felt pretty good about it.