And I mean really fell down. Hard. Like, throwing all your worldly possessions into the wind to catch yourself as you fall, leaving a debris field behind you as you lean forward with ever increasing flat footed heavy steps only to lean forward far enough to get to the point of no return and crash. Yea, that hard.
For me, it was about a year ago. A buddy of mine was at my house. He had come over to show me the new car he had bought. Not a “NEW” car in the common sense of the word, but new to him. It was a Ford Festiva (yea, it’s and oldie), and it was a stick shift. He had plans of making some sort of Redneck hump jumping, trail riding, mud skipping go cart out of it.
I walked him out to his car as he was leaving. He got in, and turned the key when I heard that all too familiar GGRRRIIINNDDDD noise coming from under the hood. Dead Battery. I thought about grabbing some jumper cables and hooking them up real quick to get him on his way, but then thought out loud, “Nah, I’ll just push you. Once I get you rolling, dump the clutch and it will start right up.”
I was leaned forward pretty far with my hands on the back hatch, but my driveway is on a slight slope, and it was a Ford Festiva that I was pushing, (Hell, I probably weighed more than the car did) so I had no problem getting him rolling.
He dumped the clutch a lot sooner than I expected. And he floored it. The object that I was holding on to (while I was leaning very far forward) shot out in front of me like it was in a competition to make it on the next “The Fast and The Furious” movie.
My feet immediately began slamming the asphalt with big flat footed “plops” as my body tried feverishly to catch up to its own center of gravity while my arms pinwheeled out of control.
Have you ever seen a race car go into a long skid, then suddenly start flipping end over end and coming apart? That was me.
I skidded and tumbled, eventually coming to rest on my back. My worldly possessions were scattered behind, beside and beyond me. My phone was out in front of me, my jacket was behind me, and my underwear lay beside me, whimpering.
My dignity was gone, and my friend had sped around the curve without even a glance back at the carnage that lay in his wake. I was all alone. Bruised and battered, I made my way back to the house where I soaked in a hot salt bath for hours.
So what about you? When was the last time you fell down?
A couple of years ago I fell off of a porch that was about eight feet off the ground. Luckily I fell into a pile of soft and muddy top soil; otherwise, it could have been bad.
However, the worst part wasn’t the pain, or the bruised ego, but rather, the fact that I tore the side out of the best pair of jeans I had ever owned. To make matters worse, those must have been the last pair of relaxed fit, boot cut jeans that Levi Strauss Co. ever made, because I have still not been able to find another pair.
Oh yeah, I guess I should add the reason I fell was that about two hours before my accident I had removed the set of temporary steps we were using to access the house. No steps equal big fall. You can figure out the rest.
I started laughing even before I read what happened! I sort of expected what was coming. Haha! Very funny, Bucky. But consider yourself lucky that no one saw you.
A few years ago, my girlfriend (wife now) and I went to buy a lens for her camera. After buying the lens, we walked down this street (a main road, actually) where there was a temporary barrier (thigh-high concrete poles strung together with barbed wire) in between lanes. Well, the street was actually a three-laned street, but the traffic authorities at the time found the need to “separate” the third lane from the other two “physically”. Anyway, we decided to cross over to the other lane… and to do so we had to bend down low enough as not to let our backs get caught in the barbed wire. She managed to get under barbed wire and get across quite effortlessly, but when it came to my turn, I somehow “failed” to extend my leg far enough in front of me that I lost my balance which eventually left me falling flat on my stomach (think of Da Vinci’s Vitruvian Man, but from the back).
My wife? Well, she rushed towards me saying “my lens! my lens!” on her way. I happened to be holding it when it happened.
Another one happened some eight years ago when I was still working at a construction company (yeah, this happened earlier than the first story). This would top Garrick’s story a bit.
Since the stairs of the two-storey house we were building was still not usable, we had to go up and down floors via a makeshift (wooden) scaffolding.
On that fateful day, as I was preparing to go down the scaffolding (yes, from the second storey), I planted my right foot on a diagonal brace and the flip-flop I was wearing at the time slipped from under my foot (well, it was my foot that slipped off of the flip-flop) which sent me plummeting to the ground that was covered with concrete rubble (remnants of the old structure). I’m thinking I must be lucky to have the concrete rubble to fall on, because if I would have landed on solid concrete pavement, I believe, I would have suffered more than the wounds I got which ran down the length of both of my forearms and a dislocated thumb. What do you think?
BCSs last blog post..Then and Now – Manila Cathedral
In July of 2006, I attended my 20 year high school reunion. On Friday night, the event was at a bar owned by a classmate. Keyword here being: “bar”. I took a cab home and couldn’t navigate our driveway very well. I ended up flat on my back. I used my cell phone to call my husband to retrieve me from our driveway. The last time I fell while sober was probably 2002 when I was going down some steps with my son’s booster seat in front of me – I couldn’t see my feet and thought I was on the last step, but I was 2 away from the landing. I twisted my ankle so badly (but didn’t break it) that it still hurts to this very day – moreso when it’s going to rain. So, I’m like an old person saying, “I think it’s going to rain. My bursitis is acting up.” LOL.
Evil Twin’s Wifes last blog post..She’s Lost Control Again
Hmmm….think I was very drunk, but I don’t remember.
Efens last blog post..My Life In Hell (aka The License Bureau)
I wrote a post about that very thing back in August (something to do with “Hooker Heels”, and if I knew how to link it, I would, but I don’t, so screw it) and it was a very graceful and attractive fall, I’m sure.
Lauras last blog post..Crazy, and not in the good way.
I was walking down a hill at a local park, on the way to watch my then-fiance practice with his softball team. His ENTIRE softball team. Of hunky dudes. And my hotterthanallofthem husband to be. I was looking cute in that “I’m trying to get you horny” way, you know, with the tight jeans, the low cut tank top, etc. I was walking with a friend, and laughing and talking, you know…calling attention to myself. Then my foot landed on a fucking beer bottle and I literally rolled my foot across the bottle, throwing the other leg straight up into the air, backwards over my head, and pretty much doing almost a full on midair somersault. I landed on my back/neck…ON THE BOTTLE…which lodged itself into my tailbone area.
Good times.
Especially the trip right afterwards to the emergency room in my BFF’s Mazda RX7, the smallest, bumpiest, lowest to the ground painmachine I have ever ridden in.
Stephanies last blog post..Help Wanted.
Garrick – I believe I remember that story. When you were building your Father in law’s house?
BCS – Worried about nothing but her lens huh? “Oh, sorry honey. I hope you’re OK too!”
ETW – Sometimes I think that a broken bone would actually be less painful then stretched or torn ligaments and tendons.
Efen – Drunk ones don’t count.
Laura – I will have to venture over and find that post myself. Sigh.
Stephanie – Now wait a minute. The bottle lodged itself into your tailbone area? Back in the day, I watched several videos online that involve women doing things with bottles that I thought was impossible. I guess no one caught this on video huh?
July 3, 2007. I had come up to visit my folks in WV, and a friend, my wife, and I were at Grandview State Park, down by Beckley. My friend and I had gone up to the Turkey Spur overlook, and after the “oooh, aaah” and taking the required pictures, it was time to head back down. She started down the stairs because she had her 5 year old daughter with her, and I decided to take a ‘non-official’ trail down. I don’t remember much that happened between the time I crossed the guardrail and the time I woke up in the hospital. I had apparently fallen 40 feet down the mountain, including a freefall that ended head first on the knife sharp edge of a rock, and somewhere through the fall I managed to shatter my left hip.
The trip back to Florida was one of the most miserable experiences I can ever remember having.
My mother later told me that if I felt that strongly about it, I could’ve just TOLD her that I didn’t want to go to her family’s 4th of July reunion.
Bite me.
Stephanies last blog post..Help Wanted.
Phillip – That sounds painful…
Stephanie – … aaawww 🙁
buckys last blog post..When Was The Last Time You Fell Down?
Yeah, it hurt a bit. Embarrassing too, since I had grown up in that area, and had been down that path several dozen times. My wife and friends have been teasing me mercilessly ever since.
My husband fell off a ladder a few weeks ago. We were cutting the branches off a tree and I had been holding the ladder. At the last minute he told me to move away so this particular big branch didn’t fall on my head. The next minute the branch broke and knocked him off the ladder. He could have been badly injured, but fortunately next doors hedge broke his fall. It’s a very thin line between triumph and disaster, fortunately we were on the right side this time.