I’m madder than a hypochondriac who is afraid to take his pill because he listened to all the possible side effects that might happen to him during the television commercial over the fact that no matter how hard I try I can’t stay on top of my trusty steed Tornado without being bucked off the second we crash into on of those sidewalk potholes!
Look, you all know the ol’Screecher is getting up there in years and I might not have gotten as far as I’ve gotten if it weren’t for my scooter that gets me to the place that I got to go when my legs — which for years have been crushed under the weight of my giant and ever-increasing torso — won’t let me go.
But that doesn’t mean that Tornado and I haven’t had our ups and downs — and when I say ups and downs, I mean us reversing positions — him on top and me on bottom — when I least expect it.
Here’s a breakdown of the latest incident that left me with more black-and-blues than a polka-dotted Appalachian bear in a colorful Dr. Seuss book.
It all started, as these things usually do, with my lovely wife Sharon demanding I take out the garbage. So there I was trying to shove a sack down the shoot at the end of the hallway when, as usual, I realized it wouldn’t fit.
So I did what every good neighbor does in that situation: I left it on the floor by the shoot. But when I came back and told Sharon what I had done, she demanded I get right back out there and bring it downstairs in the elevator to the compactor room!
And that’s when all heck broke loose!
Garbage in hand, I headed to the elevator when my cane accidentally hit the accelerator, speeding me down the hall, bouncing me off the walls, and landing me in front of Elevator A and Tornado in front of Elevator B — with his wheels still spinning.
I was about to call for help when suddenly Elevator B opened its door and my savior inside saw Tornado’s wheels sideways, me sprawled across the floor with my ride pinning me down.
Thankfully, the security guard was doing his appointed rounds and knew exactly what to do when he recognized the condition my condition was in, because it wasn’t the first time he’s saved me from by bucking bronco. Regular readers of this column have read of these mishaps as they occurred throughout the years. Sometimes he’s had others help, other times he managed to pick me up by himself. He actually has developed a unique technique getting me back on Tornado.
But on this occasion, it wasn’t working and I suggested after two attempts landed me back on my keester he call for help, which he did.
Here is another obvious selling point for handicapped individuals to live in co-ops — help is never far off.
The knowledgeable, friendly and efficient staff at Harway is always ready, willing, and able to get me back in the saddle anytime I fall out!
Since I hit my head several times on the floor, we needed to know if I should take coffee to stay awake, fearing possible concussions. I called up my union’s nurse who strongly recommended I see a doctor, and Sharon remembered seeing a “Grand Opening” sign for CityMD walk-in urgent care clinic right next to the TD Bank on 86th Street and Bay Parkway.
The facility is brand new, spacious, with modern state-of-the-art equipment and a caring professional staff! Dr. Joseph Passanante was the physician that took care of me. If he’s an example of the calibre of medical care to be expected. Bensonhurst is in great hands.
Afterward, I was waiting to get into our car when another of my loyal readers recognized me and asked if I was Carmine Santa Maria, which took me by surprise because I wasn’t on Tornado, and I wasn’t wearing my Russian hat shown in my column picture.
She then decided that she wanted to be my editor, giving me all sorts of advise and critiques on my column.
It made me wonder why she has never commented on the Brook
After all was said and done, my neighbor asked me, “Carmine, how do you punish Tornado for these types of mishaps?”
My response?
“By sitting on him all day!”
Screech at you next week!
