Today was supposed to be that day of football, alcohol and hanging out, a temporary reprieve from the general horrid thinking of the rest of the week.

Last night, my friends Pedro and Jason, guys I've known for ten years and have gone through so many things with, came over to my parents' house to play some cards. They left a bit before midnight, and five minutes after they left I got a phone call from Jason's cell phone. I knew something was wrong.

"You need to get out here now, man," Jason said. "We got in an accident."

I could hear Pedro in the background, kind of groaning, saying, "I'm not feeling good."

I grabbed my camera and my keys and Michelle and I sped out to where he said they were.

By the time we'd gotten out there, Jason had called again, asking me to hurry up.

"I'm right behind you," I said. I was walking up to his car, which was on the neutral ground. The drivers side was smashed in on both doors. EMT workers were already out there, scrambling around.

I don't even remember what I asked him. The only thing I remember is looking in at the two of them, seeing Pedro, in the passenger seat, with his eyes closed and his legs trembling. And then vomit bubbling out of his mouth. The EMTs pulled him from the car and put him on a stretcher. They taped his legs and his left arm to the stretcher. He came to and started to fight them.

"Pedro," I called. "You need to keep still so they can help you."

The EMTs put him in the ambulance. I made sure Michelle had her keys to my car, and told her that I was going with Pedro and to stay with Jason. Jason was now sitting in the passenger seat, the EMTs wrapping a brace around his neck. I told him that I was going with Pedro, and then I got into the ambulance.

Then I saw them put Jason on a stretcher, and they put him in the ambulance with Pedro. They asked the both of them some general questions, and at this point Pedro was cognizant.

We got to the hospital, which is only about three or four miles from where the accident happened, and one of the EMTs brought Pedro in while another checked Jason. He complained of pain in his lower back, but had total feeling and could grip will, which bode well for spinal injuries. The EMT asked him if he could remember what happened, and he couldn't.

They took Jason in, and after that we played the waiting game. At 12:30 I called Jason's dad and filled him in. Nobody picked up at Pedro's.

Jason's family showed up fifteen minutes later, and I drove to Pedro's house and tried to wake up anyone who happened to be home, but nothing worked.

By 4 a.m. the only thing we knew was that they were admitting Pedro to the hospital and Jason had a CAT scan performed on him. The doctors were waiting on the results, as that would determine whether they'd release him or keep him.

They had no idea when they'd get those results, and we were lucky to get that little bit of info on Pedro, since they're only allowed to give info to relatives. We decided to get some sleep, figuring if Jason would be discharged he'd call.

At 9 a.m. I got a call from Jason's stepmom. She'd gotten in touch with Pedro's dad and he was at the hospital. He was admitted officially, so I called the hospital and tried to get in touch. I actually got through.

He's got a ruptured spleen, fractured ribs, and he'd seized while he was in the car. He had to have several blood transfusions because his blood count dropped so low. I asked him if he knew what happened, and, while he was sleeping at the time of the accident, a state trooper had come in and told him what happened. They were stopped at a red light, waiting to cross over a main street into Pedro's neighborhood. The light turned green, Jason started moving, and a drunk driver going about 50 mph ran the light and plowed into them. The troopers have the guy under arrest, and we found out today that he has insurance, which isn't a given in Louisiana.

Jason's stepmom finally got to see him, and found out that he's got three broken ribs, a tear in his spleen and a bruised liver. THe doctors expect the liver and spleen to heal themselves. He still doesn't remember all of what happened. When his stepmom went in to see him, one of the first questions he asked was, "How are the Saints doing?"

I've talked to the both of them periodically throughout the day, but we didn't get the full gist of everything until later this afternoon. It's been tiring just worrying about the two of them.

It'd be nice to have a period of a week where I didn't have to look at destruction and mayhem, have my brother break a foot or my friends nearly die. It'd be nice, but who knows when it'll happen.