I was born in New Orleans, and until I was about 5 and we moved away, I lived with my family at the Golden Key apartments in Metairie. It's funny thinking back on it now, with a daughter of 7 of my own, how amazing and kind of scary the amount of freedom my brother and I had. I mean, at least from what I remember, we had the run of the place. Me and my 3 year old brother. Like this one time...
I was playing in this vacant lot at the apartments, with my brother...I couldn't have been more than 5 at the time (I know this because that's when we moved to Florida--I'm smart like that). So anyway, I was barefoot, running around that vacant lot with my brother when I stepped on a 2x4 with a nail in it, and it went through and out the top of my foot. I screamed and stepped down with my other foot. Onto another 2x4 with another nail, that went through the top of that foot.
My brother left me screaming and went running for help and came back with the maintenance man who took a look at my predicament and said "you goin' skiin', boy?"
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