The next few hours were by far the most surreal of my entire 10 years. We went to a matinee showing of King Kong at the NuWilshire Theatre. I remember slurping from a big, ice-cold Coke, then passing out. The next morning, head still throbbing, right hand heavily swollen and black-and-blue, my mom took me to Cedars-Sinai, where I was diagnosed with a mild concussion and a fractured thumb. And while the following three weeks of having to wear a cast and not being allowed to skate have vanished from memory, that split second of weightlessness between kick turn and disaster are still vividly with me.
Writer/photographer/filmmaker Brisick now spends his time in L.A., New York and Brazil.
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