Drinking and motorcycles do not mix

Easter was interesting -- the evening part, anyway. I got home from dinner at my parents' house and went outside to take out the trash, when I heard a loud crash just down the street. My neighbors were out in their porch swing in their front yard, and all three of us went running down the street, where we found a man lying in someone's front yard with his motorcycle on top of him. He had crashed right into a streetlight pole and hit it so hard that all of the glass covering the light bulb way on top had shattered all over the street. The man kept insisting that he was all right, and admitted that his leg hurt "a little," but that there was no need for us to call an ambulance -- he'd go to the doctor if it kept hurting. Another gentleman who'd stopped to help as he drove past the scene asked the man to try to stand up. He tried, but didn't get more than a few inches off the ground before collapsing in pain. We got him to roll up his pantleg, and his entire leg was horribly black and blue. His knee was swollen up like a grapefruit, and it was sort of dented in the middle, as if it had broken in half. He continued to plead with us not to call 911, which sort of tipped me off that he'd been drinking and was afraid he'd be arrested. I offered to go and get some ice for his leg, but he said no. Finally, the man who'd stopped in his car managed to convince the guy to let him take him to the hospital. After he helped the guy into his car, he came back and told the rest of us, quietly, that the guy reeked of alcohol. What a moron. He didn't even have a helmet on. He's really lucky that he didn't hurt anyone else, and that all he ended up with, as far as I could tell, was a broken leg. That was quite a way to spend Easter evening.