Let’s just say that I began my day with a bang and I don’t mean fireworks or half sticks. Every Saturday, my husband takes me to a cozy little restaurant in a historical building, where we know every waitress and some are like family. I bake them cookies, tell them I love them and they, in turn, think I’m funny. One of my closest friends works here on the weekends, as she teaches full time weekdays. It warms my heart to see her precious face, and we laugh our fool heads off.
What was not lovely was the way in which I entered the building this morning. Inching my way across the snow covered parking lot (I fall so much that I have begun to do the “drop and roll,” not unlike the stunt men and women you see on television) my husband pulling me in protest.
Of course and despite the bad weather, the restaurant is packed. As I stepped into the waiting room full of sleepy customers, I instinctively knew I was headed for the floor. I didn’t know why I was headed in that direction, but I remember saying these words to myself:
Tuck and roll, Michele.
And that is exactly what I did. As I hit the slate floor I felt my rib crack, but that pain was overcome by the humiliation I felt as every waitress, busboy and hostess ran in circles screaming OH MY GOD ARE YOU OKAY?
For some lame reason, the words that unwillingly came out of my orifice were-
It’s okay! I’m an EMT!
In my distress I had somehow remembered the words I blurt out when someone other than myself takes a fall. I had to L O L seeing the chaos ensue. Two hostesses actually clanked heads on their way to check on me! I’ve never seen safety cones pulled out so fast in my life.
“They think you’re going to sue them,” my husband helpfully interjects.
And so it was, as we paid our bill, that an entire restaurant of people watched as we walked out the door. That’s what people do these days. They watch the village idiots~