Momentum Wears a Bright Yellow Shirt... and No Helmet

One evening last week in NY, I was due to meet Nick and Reny in the lobby of their building at 8:30 so we could go walk down 9th and find something for dinner. I was running about 15 minutes ahead of time, so I decided to stretch my legs and make a bit of a walk out of it.
I was over on 10th Avenue and had just approached 55th Street. The light was red and the “Don’t Walk” sign was lit, but in true New Yorker fashion, I stepped out into the street anyway and looked up the hill to the left to see if any cars were actually coming.

That’s when I heard him… a few seconds before I actually saw him. Which is surprising because of the neon yellow dri-fit shirt he was wearing.

Just as I was about to cross the street, I heard “HOLY MOTHER F’ER!!!!!!!!” from up the street… I stopped in my tracks, having no idea where that was coming from and why. A split second later, I saw him – a rollerblader careening down 55th (ie. DOWN the hill) towards 10th, headed straight for the intersection, just as the light turned green and the cross-traffic began moving again. Mr. Neon Yellow skidded to the side, like hockey players as they angle themselves to slam an opposing player into the boards, fell and tumbled to the very edge of the intersection, missing the passing traffic by only a couple of feet.

I ran to him as he lay on the pavement, not moving and asked if he was ok, if he could move, if he needed me to call 911 (or anyone for that matter). He opened his eyes, raised himself on his elbows, shook his head and said “No, I think I’m ok.” He wasn’t bleeding and none of his limbs were sitting at weird angles, so I said “Well, let’s at least get you off the street” and tried to help him get up. Once I got him to his feet (er, wheels), he promptly fell down again.

By this time, a couple of other people had stopped to help (and who says New Yorkers don’t care??) and we managed to get our rollerblading buddy off the street, up onto the sidewalk and propped up against the side of the building. Again, we asked about calling 911 or getting a hold of a friend, but he refused again.

After making sure he had his bearings back, I headed up 55th and when I turned back to check up on him, I saw him sailing across 10th (with the traffic lights, thank goodness), his helmet-less head glinting under the street lamps and his arms and legs flailing in all directions. I think he yelled something else out, but I was too far away to hear it now. I can only imagine what the follow up to “mother f’er” might have been.

I don’t know who was watching over this guy to make sure he wasn’t killed, or even seriously injured, but whoever it was should really remind him to wear a helmet AND send him to Central Park where he would only risk crashing into trees and other rollerbladers.