Picture it. It's 9:00 PM. Two sleep-eyed kids rub their faces and whine in the car, and the husband is inside taking a bladder break and collecting sweets for the final two hours of our drive. I realize that the little babe could do with a final cup of milk for the evening, so I grab her cup and rush over to show it to daddy before he makes his purchases. I'm running the twenty feet from my car to the door so focused on the milk that I don't see the curb, thus I don't step up. My toes bang into the cement and my body catapults forward into the trash barrel then ricochets back and falls into the stacks of pre-packed firewood piled against the wall. My head and hand crash against the glass, and I imagine I look something like this.
My arm is scraped up, my toe could be broken, and my alignment is definitely out of whack. I stand up and look around and there is not a single car or human being who witnessed my major tumble. Really? Nobody saw that? Come on! It had to be hilarious, and I wonder if the gas station has video surveillance cameras that we can rewind for a playback.
I fall a lot. Often when I'm out for a run, the little devil who dwells in the sidewalk will pop out and grab a hold of my ankle. Sometimes I manage to twist free of his grip with a few long-forward-lunging strides, but there have been times when that little fucker has brought me down. I've fallen down stairs at the airport. I've fallen off my bike and broken both arms. You'd think by now that I would slow down and watch where I'm going, but why would I do that?
Do you have a fun falling story to share?