Today, on Blood Writes, we bring you the story of Justin. Justin got hit by a fucking train.

It happened this Valentine's Day. I had to catch a 6 AM bus to visit my girlfriend in Boston, so I decided it would be a good idea to stay up all night to avoid the risk of sleeping late and disappointing a lady. After a night of completely lucid drinking, I made my way to the 116th 1 stop.

Everything after that is a haze, but as far as I can pull together from accounts handed down to me, my bag fell on the tracks, and I went with it (there was nothing in it but underwear and a bag of dried ziti). Whether or not I noticed the train is anyone's guess, but apparently it was a-comin', as the driver saw me but didn't have enough time to brake. A stranger (who I've never heard from again) scrambled to help pull me up, and I managed to get my upper torso above the platform before contact. The train hit me in the right hip, swung my legs around, and smashed the top of my head into the side as it passed.

My first memory after that is being attended to on the platform by the EMTs, and then everything's blank until I woke up in the hospital. Despite how bad it sounds, my injuries were pretty minimal. I had the stitches and staples in my head, and my body felt extremely sore like I had just been through a strenuous workout, but really the worst pain I felt was when they tried to put a catheter in (I cursed and cursed until they stopped). After an overnight stay, I was released home and stayed in bed for a week.

As for my most precious gift, it looks like I am a lucky man. My house keys were in my right front pocket and glanced across the front of my manhood. An inch to the left, and I would've been a very changed man. All I'm left with now is a dime sized scar as a reminder that immortal man can and do walk the earth.

(Attached are some other pictures of me laid up. One of my friends worked for a clothing company owned by Jay Z, and apparently they blew up the diamond picture on a huge projection screen as part of the Roc-A-Fella anniversary party. It feels good to know that rap dudes saw me be this tough.)


Word.

Do you have a bloody story you want to share? Maybe you fell out of a building or maybe you're a Knievel? We want to know.

Advertisement