The Lonely Toe...

...finally has a friend. You may recall that I blogged about my friend George's broken, lonely toe some months back. Well, over the weekend I managed to mangle the least appreciated appendage the male body. That is to say, the 4th toe, right next to the famous "pinky toe". Now, I've never had beautiful feet like my wife, but I have prided myself on straight, rather normal sized toes. Hey, celebrate the small things I always say. However, my right foot now has a toe which looks as if it is pointing out the north star to its less than interested siblings.

Here's how it happened: I took Leslie and the kids with me on a business trip to the Isle of Palms. We had a fabulous long weekend at Wild Dunes. I was able to work a convention by day and we played on the beach in the late afternoons. All had gone well, up until Monday morning the day we were to leave, when we decided to get in one last ocean swim before heading home. It was a bit rough out that morning and I came darned near losing my shorts to the sea on a couple of occasions. In fact, I'm pretty sure I scared away a family of Canadian tourists. It was during this time frame that the mother of all waves hit me from behind, sending me tail over teacups into the kids.

Fortunately, the girls made it out of the situation unscathed, but somehow my right foot jammed into the surf bending my 4th toe all the way back to the top of my foot (or so it felt). All I know is that when I came up from the white, foamy water I almost passed out from the pain. Upon brief examination I noticed that the toe was completely standing at a 90 degree angle from his 4 friends. I was sick.

It was not easy trying to make it from the water to where we had set up camp, some 30 yards away. By the time I reached Leslie I had to lay down in the sand to keep from passing out. I rested for a few minutes while Leslie and the kids packed up and then we headed for the hotel, another 200 yards away. Several times I just had to lay down in the sand to keep from fainting. (Yes I realize I sound like the ultimate pansy, but it was as seen by x-ray the next day, completely broken)

Now, here's what other people on the beach saw from their lounge chairs: A middle-aged, out of shape, grossly pale father of two emerges from the sea, screaming like a school girl (probably scared he saw a jelly fish, or something). He's obvious drunk because he staggers up the beach, collapsing several times and just lays there for a while. His pants are falling down as he finally makes his way back to where his wife is sitting on a towel reading a book. He screams something about leaving and then lays down for a short nap while his wife and kids pack up all the stuff. He eventually gets up and stumbles back to the hotel, not carrying a thing, lays back down a couple more times with his face in the sand and then eventually stumbles out of sight.

"Did you see that guy, Margaret?"

"Sure did, Stanley. Reminds me of my Uncle Roddy on a bender, and it's not even 10 AM. Darn shame, I'd say".

"Yeah, he did have a nice left foot though".