The adult human skeleton is comprised of 206 bones and they are supposed to reach maximum density around the age of 30. If this is true, I am screwed. At 32 years old, I have just broken my arm for the sixth, and hopefully last, time.

Our trip to the Bahamas was almost routine in nature. Ed phoned me up and asked if I
wanted to do a night in Nassau. Amanda Lindroth’s Palm Beach office needed a ride over for a dinner party to which we were also invited. The next morning we decided to grab lunch in Harbour Island before returning stateside.

Harbour Island, locally called “Briland”, is one of my favorite islands in the Bahamas. The colonial-style buildings are colorful, the beaches are pink, and the water looks photoshopped. Golf carts are the vehicle of choice around the island because, like most towns built in the 1700s, the streets are too narrow for cars.

There are a few problems with this scenario. Golf carts were meant to drive on smooth grass fairways and well maintained cart paths, not rough Bahamian roads and cobblestone streets riddled with potholes and debris.

It’s not like these golf carts are rolling straight off the EZ-GO factory line either. Downhill, these things are as stable as Courtney Love off her meds.

We had lunch at Sip Sip on the oceanside of Briland, and decided to go next door to the Dunmore Hotel to jump in the ocean. We hitched a ride on a golf cart for the short ride and I stood on the back. As we turned from the road into the Dunmore, I remembered the treacherous driveway ahead with its winding downhill turns that have most likely flipped golf carts before.

Our driver, who was probably day drunk, started losing control after the first turn and went into progressively worse speed wobbles after turn two. Doing the math in my head, I quickly decided that, by standing on the back, I was making the cart top-heavy and inherently unstable. I had to bail.
I made a cinematic leap off the left side and ran three or four paces before my balance and grip on the grass surface beneath me gave way. My attempt at a graceful dismount was quickly coming undone as I put my left hand out to break my fall and recover with some sort of cool knee slide. Almost as soon as my hand made contact with the ground, I felt a pop in my elbow, my arm noodled, and I rolled oafishly to a stop.

The first time I broke my arm, I was too young to remember. My family was on a ski trip in Colorado. My older brother, Loy, and I were jumping on beds in our hotel room. I fell (was pushed) off the bed and broke my left elbow.

The second time I broke my arm, I was around 6 or 7 and can barely remember the circumstances. We were on a ranch out in the middle of Florida somewhere. There was a bunch of kids on a trailer going for a hayride. At the end, everyone started throwing hay at
each other for a good ole fashioned hay fight. Somehow I fell (was pushed) off the trailer and this time broke my right elbow.

The third time I broke my arm was a couple years later. It was Christmas day and I just got a bicycle. I was so excited to ride it. I raced Loy over to our cousin Blake’s house a couple blocks away. About three houses away from the finish line, my back tire slipped off the curb and the bike flopped over. I could tell instantly my right wrist was broken, but to a lesser trained eye, like my brother’s, it would appear that I was balled up crying over the scrape on my knee. Loy punched me in my (broken) arm, called me a loser, and left me in the dust.

The fourth time I was snowboarding. Left wrist.

Fifth time. Skateboarding. Right wrist. (Same street as #3)

Both this time and the last, I didn’t know I had broken my arms until at least a day or two after. Maybe my tolerance for pain had increased. I knew something was wrong this time when my arm was just a lifeless sack of meat. I could move my fingers but thats about it. It’s a weird feeling not being able to move your arm. Sometimes I imagine I might have jedi powers and can use the force to get my arm to move the same way most people would with a remote control that’s just beyond their reach. If I just concentrate…