Coupled with my white, middle-class guilt was the guilt from making them drive me all the way home. To assuage both, I had them drop me a few block from my house and walked the rest of the way. It was cold and foggy and very refreshing, but I was dead tired, dizzy, and my shoulder hurt.

I let myself into the house and got right into bed. When morning came, I'd hardly slept and my shoulder still ached. I got out of bed and said to my mom, "I think I hurt my shoulder." I told her about the failed stage-dive, and she drove me to the hospital.