What I Learned...As My Head Bled

Back when I was the same age as most of you, my mom used to tell me to always pay attention to what was around me. Sometimes, even doing that isn't enough, especially if there are dangers that you don't expect.

During the summer, I was walking up Lenox Avenue one night. I got a call on my phone and answered it. The street was pretty noisy and I couldn't hear the person on the phone properly. To try to get away from the street-noise, I turned towards the buildings on the side of the avenue. Unfortunately I didn't expect that one of the buildings would have this box sticking out from one of its windows:

I walked head-first into the steel box. First of all, I didn't know what had happened. Then I realized it hurt a lot. Then I put my hands to my head and realized I was bleeding a lot.

Luckily, I was pretty close to Harlem Hospital, where I got staples put into my head to close the wound. The staples had to stay in for quite a while, and even after a week or so my head looked like this:

I got a big bill from Harlem Hospital and I guess my head will always have a scar there. So what I learned was to always be on the look-out for danger, because even accidents that aren't your fault can still be pretty darn painful.