Words for My Enjoyment

I Wish I Had A Friend With A Prosthetic Leg

May 7th, 2008

I went out on a single date in college with a girl who had a prosthetic leg.

I didn’t find out she had a prosthetic leg until after that first date became the last date. And then, all I could think about was that I wished I had given her more of a chance. That, had I dated her for longer than one instance, I might have found out that beneath those jeans was an actual, psuedo-bionic Fugitive-like prosthetic leg.

Now all I do is wish I had a friend with a prosthetic leg.

There’s a lot of people out there who have something against people having prosthetics. I honestly think it has something to do with how the media portrays these people. There was the evil prosthetic-armed villain of The Fugitive (see mention above). There was the evil blonde prosthetic-implanted blonde woman on The Bionic Woman. The terminators of Terminator are made up of all prosthetics. Even the villain/hitman from the classic movie Innerspace has a prosthetic arm that allows him to attach evil prosthetic/metal hands to the end of the prosthetic arm that crushes things, shoot rockets and generally turn into deadly devices of pain.

But when I think of downing beers or going to the ball game or playing video games or attending a political rally or taking a sushi cooking class with my friend with the prosthetic leg — I sort of think it would be way more fun and diverse an experience than hanging out with friends who still have both their legs. And when I imagine the kind of super jumping ability my prosthetic leg-adorning friend would have, those elementary school basketball courts nearby don’t look so menacing any more now that I’ve got a ringer on my team.

But even more than the basic on-the-surface “dude you’ve got a friend with a prosthetic leg” excitement that comes with having a friend with a prosthetic leg…there are some very real, very serious real-world situations that could only be helped by having a prosthetic-leg wearing buddy by your side.

Take stopping a rapidly closing elevator, for example. I could stick my hand in between those closing doors, but I’m always afraid the special danger system where the doors fly back open as to not crush a human child’s head, won’t work. But Jack (the imaginary name I’ve given to my imaginary prosthetic-leg wearing bud) could just stick his leg in there and jam it in good. Even if the doors closed and he was pulled to the ceiling as the elevator rose — he’d still feel no pain. And in my book, that’s a great way to get to that meeting on time without any true blood-loss or injury whatsoever.

And imagine how much easier it would be to face attack dogs defending a dimly-lit prescription drug warehouse (the kind that has boxes and boxes of stuff like Lunestra and Paxil) if Hal (the other imaginary name I’ve given to my imaginary prosthetic-leg wearing pal) was there with me? Attack dogs, especially ones guarding warehouses, are often trained to “go for the leg.” Given, it would still be a 50% chance of which leg they’d get — but that’s much better odds than I’d have. I think we’d slather Hal with meat juice just before jumping the fence and he could distract them with his prosthetic leg while I loaded up on Cialis.

Then, of course, there’s the classic Taxi-fare avoidance scenario. I mean, how often would me and Pepper-Jo (name #3 in my quest to pick an imaginary name for my imaginary prosthetic-leg toting palamino) find ourselves drunk and pulling up to our apartment in a cab and realize we’d spent all our money on Red Bull & Vodka? There would be only one solution, for P.J. (what I’d call him most of the time) to get his leg stuck in a closed taxi cab door…and threaten a lawsuit. Fortunately, the leg wouldn’t hurt, but the law suit would — so we’d get off scott free and our wallets wouldn’t be any lighter.

There’s a billion reasons to have a friend with a prosthetic leg. Being able to board airplanes without having to take off belts and shoes since, hey — you’ve already got metal attached to your body anyway. Being an NFL punter would be great for Chancey Delancey (name #4) and even greater for me — the guy with the friend who’s the NFL punter (and the recipient of those season tickets to all the games). Three-legged races would be won by me and my pal each and every time, thanks to the extra strength in the prosthetic. Cramped quarters or backseats on road trips would be a little less cramped as a result of only 3 squishy legs instead of four.

I could go on and on and on and on, referencing how having a friend with a prosthetic leg could garner me a starring role in a Broadway musical, render me a truly successful ladies man, and even result in my being chosen to appear on the next iteration of the Tila Tequila show on MTV…

But why go on?

For the more I sing the praises of the prosthetic legged man, the more the rest of the world will realize just how lucky one can be by aligning themselves with such a person. Saying anything more could simply ruin my chances at success.

Maybe I’ve said too much already.

Have I?

Posted under Friends, Innerspace, Pepper Jo, Prosthetic Legs, Prosthetics, Success in Life, The Fugitive. |