Conversation with Ryan
Sunday morning, as Ryan drove me and him to Paul’s house inside the Beltway for some brunch, I told him about Dave. Ryan had only met him once, so I asked him if he remembers a guy named Dave whom he met when we went to that Jeff Scholar cocktail thing at the Boston Harbor Hotel. Ryan knew immediately exactly who I was talking about, which continues to speak volumes about just how personable Dave was.

Ryan was absolutely shocked and couldn’t stop saying “no way”, “no way”, “no way”. His comment that really hit home was, “My gosh, but I remember him being such a great guy, super good looking, really easy to talk to, so genuine. I mean, he was so good; he really had it set. No way.”

With my mom:
While sitting at Dulles Airport later Sunday, waiting for my flight back to Boston, I called my mom and dad. I told mom about Dave, and the fact that on Friday, I randomly thought about how we haven’t seen or talked to each other for a while. She immediately said, “Don’t dismiss things like that. It was a premonitive sign.” She, like me, remarked on you never ever know what will happen next in life.

With my BUDA team:
I had to explain my absence from the game last week, along with the road rash and prominent scabs I have on my arms and legs. Maybe because it’s been more than a week since the crash, or maybe because these people are still strangers to me, I really toned down the details, despite really wanting to say “I would probably be dead had I not been wearing a helmet”. Mourning and missing Dave, I often shake my head in wonder and disbelief at my own sheer luck. I could have easily also made it onto the local news.

With people who think helmets look “uncool”:
Smashing your skull open on the pavement is even more uncool. My helmet took the beating and saved my life: