I went down to DC for this:
And returned first thing the next morning to this:
Poor Mr. Ben finally got a break from work at some point over the weekend and he celebrated with a bike ride to Far Rockaway with a couple of friends. He made it all the way to the middle of nowhere, then flew off his bike, landed on his face, and had to be taken to a hospital.
When you have head trauma necessitating reconstructive surgery, you do not want to be in Brooklyn ("Shocking Video Shows Brooklyn Hospital's Neglect as Patient Dies in Emergency Room") in July ("A recent study found that more patients die of medical mistakes in the month of July than any other month"). Especially not on a Federal Holiday.
In many respects, Mr. Ben was very lucky. Our two friends who were with him acted as surrogate parents, amping up their concern to the level of Shirley MacClaine in Terms of Endearment as necessary, while the army surgeon called in by the hospital stitched Mr. Ben's face back together. He didn't lose any teeth or break anything except his nose.
Poor nose! It already had a Bert-ish sort of thing going on. In fact we ARE Bert & Ernie:
I mean, right? Even the initials match up.
Anyway, Mr. Ben / Bert will be recovering at our apartment for the next few days. If, like Mr. Collins, you would like to condole with him, he is there, receiving guests, flowers, and ideas for what his nose should look like once the plastic surgeon is done with it.