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People often ask me, "why do you have a cast on your arm?"

To which I plainly reply, "Sharks, watch out for them sharks."

This actually wasn't my idea, when I was in Seattle last month, I was trying to explain my injury without embarassment when this girl who nobody knew came out of nowhere and said, "Just tell 'em it was sharks, man. Chicks dig sharks." I never saw her again after that, but the shark idea stuck. Until then I had always started with the tale of saving a baby from a burning building, and added more and more heroic details until I was certain nobody believed me. I grew tired of that, because it was disconcerting to learn how little detail was necessary to convince them I was lying.

When people ask me how a shark could have broken my wrist I start with "Well, I was saving a shark from a burning building....." My strategy is to confuse them to the point where they've exhausted their curiosity.

If you have any good stories that involve a broken wrist, let me know, so that I can steal your story rather than somebody else's. I actually broke it while trying to do a diving roll on the sidewalk when I was really stupid-drunk, but I don't like telling the story like that.