Steady Andy, the Patron Saint of upright cyclists

I shouldn't have mocked St Andrew and his guano-covered forehead. 

I took a mighty fall from my Dublin Bike while racing to the bike station at Tara Street (only two spaces left and a traffic light green for only a few more seconds). 
I never noticed the bus lane's raised lip on the wet, dark tarmac. I'll remember it from now on! 
A nice garda and one of the concerned bus-hopers (not hoppers, they don't hop onto a bus, they just stand there in the drizzle, hoping that a bus might turn up) helped me to my feet and picked up the bike that slid sideways from underneath me in a 200th of second as I was cycling as a bat out of hell (that translates to about 30 km/h on a Dublin Bike). 
I could not thank them other than through mime, as I had momentarily lost the use of my lungs from slamming sideways into the tarmac. The helmet did its helmet thing and placed a comfortable layer of polystyrene and plastic as buffer between my head and the road. 
I'll wait till tomorrow to see if I have a couple of damaged ribs (I unfortunately do not have any spare ones...) For now it's still pretty sore. I avoid deep breaths as much as possible. And laughter. No hysterical laughter for me tonight. 
Just a generous glass of Carlos Primero and a fistful of Ibuprofen...