At DeVry 1977, we went to Montrose Beach with a bunch of beers got stoned and played football. Three of us went up for a ball, landed hard and heard my arm snap. Right arm between to elbow and wrist, broke. My "friends" tell me I'm fine walk it off, my car is back in the school parking lot, so we keep playing. I'm not playing well, broken arm starts to hurt, beer, hot sun, no food, not good. We leave Montrose in 3 or 4 cars and go to our place Stormy Bulls (now the home of the Beat Kitchen
https://www.google.com/maps/@41.9395673,-87.6807791,3a,75y,313.93h,90.54t/data=!3m6!1e1!3m4!1s50yqAeImcNQmkLcxVsJ5fw!2e0!7i13312!8i6656?hl=en) it was much better back then. We played some Foosball, that's what Stormy's was known for, I did not play well, and then went back to school. Finally got in my car and drove home, the arm had been broke for about 5 hours and was looking fucked up. I get home and my mom and GF are waiting for me, apparently we had something planned, they freak, arm looks fucked up. Off to Holy Family Hospital. X-Rays confirm my original diagnoses, broke fucking arm, the doc won't put a cast on because I'm drunk, he needs accurate pain level feedback. Go home sleep it off, next day miss school, get a cast, next day go back to school, my "friends" ask what happened to me. I tell them I broke my fucking arm playing football with you ******* at Montrose, remember? Nope, what are you talking about.
**** you!