Brad Needs a Helmet

Brad needs a helmet.

Everyone who knows me (Brad) knows that I am clumsy and accident-proned. I have broken many limbs (including one that landed me in a body cast when I was about two years old), gotten plenty of stitches, and most recently got carried off a mountain in Colorado by a dozen firefighters when I dislocated my kneecap while hiking. For my rained-out bachelor party, my brothers were planning on taking me to an amusement park, fully decked out in pink elbow, wrist and knee guards, and a bright pink helmet. My Argentine host family called me "Torpe" instead of my name. Torpe is roughly translated, "Clutz extraordinaire."

Now, combine my historic clumsiness with one unfortunate aspect of Japanese building construction and you have a recipe for some serious pain for Bradley-san. Since moving to Japan, I have literally hit my head at least 50 times.

Entering/exiting the train.

Stumbling to the bathroom in the middle of the night.

Walking into our house.

Getting out of the shower.

Making copies at school.

Entering Rachael's classroom.

It seems that wherever I go, my head only clears doorways by mere inches, or in many other cases, it doesn't clear and I end up with an egg on my head. Who knows how much damage I've caused to my poor skull since moving here, but it has certainly been frustrating at times.

Worst of all is that you think I'd learn from my mistakes. The main reason I haven't, or actually can't, is that I'm working on my posture thanks to some strong advice from our chiropractor in Minnesota. Either I sacrifice my posture by crouching over when I walk around our apartment or pass through a doorway, or I stand up straight and crack my head on a doorway or low ceiling.

This is one Catch-22 I was not expecting this year.