What follows is, sadly, a true story about my worst day in Indiana. It’s a gruesome tale that can only be told in stages; otherwise, the trauma of reliving it might be too great to continue without some serious comfort in the form of fudge brownies (which I am currently without, thanks to a harebrained notion to eat healthier or some such nonsense). Also, I have to go to class soon.
Apparently, yesterday’s theme was “Catastrophe” in shades of black and blue. And red. An unsettling amount of red…
First off, let me just say I feel I have been handling this ungodly amount of cold and ice with aplomb. I have taken the shuttle from my apartment complex to get to class on time, and I have avoided colliding with the concrete while traversing especially icy patches. That is, until yesterday.
One of my best friends gave me a new thermos for Christmas — a really nice, dual-layer, Tervis-style Alabama cup. Needless to say, I was quite excited to use it. I was less excited about the ice-trap awaiting me outdoors. So, thermos in hand with my bag on my shoulder and only about two inches of skin showing around my eyes, I headed out extremely carefully. However, the ice in the parking lot mocked me and my efforts.
I took two steps through an empty parking spot, and I felt it; my foot slipped. For a moment, I hung in midair like a comically balanced cartoon character…and then gravity decided I’d had too many near-misses this past week and it was time I got up close and personal with the asphalt.
I’m not really sure what hit first, or how it all went down, but the next thing I know, I’m kneeling on one knee on the icy concrete, my face feels like I just took a punch, and my beautiful new thermos is skidding away across the parking lot.
And of course, there was a witness.
I stood up slowly and, taking a particular singer’s advice, shook it off.
“I’m fine,” I told my neighbor. “I’ve been waiting for this happen.” Like it was something I’d been looking forward to. Right.
Aiming for nonchalance (psh, I meant to fall), I retrieved my thermos and continued toward the front of the neighborhood and the bus that would take me to class.
But then I saw red. Literally. I swiped at my face and my glove came away bloody.
Well, crap. I was going to miss my bus. Little did I know that was going to be another theme of the day.
I reversed my trek across the parking lot, sneering at the confounding ice along the way. Once I finally managed to get back inside (gloves + doorknob + keys – friction = mumbled epithets), I was admittedly a little shocked at what I saw in the bathroom mirror.
Well, crap. I was going to be late to class. Better capture some proof in case my professor didn’t believe a native Alabama girl could slip on some ice and bust open her eyebrow (ish).
The thing is… it wasn’t the ground that caused that gash. Instead, I was a victim of friendly fire: my brand-new, dual-layer, Tervis-style, Alabama thermos smacked me in the face (and the dignity) when I fell. I can’t help but feel it was making a bid for freedom, since it skittered away directly after beaning me.
Briefly, I considered shipping it back to my friend, Sarah, since she’d obviously re-gifted a cursed object as a Christmas present. But that would entail traversing more icy parking lots with this little gem in hand, and I wasn’t born yesterday. Fool me once and all that. Until I can be certain it can behave itself, this little thermos will be marked “For home-use only.”
Unfortunately, this icy incident was only the first travesty of the day, which started out bloody and only went downhill from there….
The trauma continues in A Series of Unfortunate Events: Part 2.