I spent yesterday in the big city and have proved, once again, that I shouldn’t be let out of the house alone. If you remember when my skirt fell off and when I got my foot stuck in a boot then you know I am not the smoothest knife in the drawer.
My plan was so simple, pick up some chicken nuggets and slip into the movie theater to preview “War Horse” for the kids. Then get my errands run and go home.
But it all went awry when the ladies behind me in the theater kept talking. This gets on my.last.nerve. My OCD kicks in and I can’t hear a thing from the movie but I do know that the lady behind me had a family member that traveled to France last year. After about 10 minutes I couldn’t take it anymore.
So I decided to pick up my nuggets and my Diet DP and move a few rows down. That’s where it all went bad. I was turning into the aisle and didn’t realize that I was still a step up from the row. Thinking I was even with the floor I took a step in, but the floor wasn’t there and I went down like a lead balloon. Nuggets went flying, Diet Dr Pepper splattered everywhere and I am pretty sure I pulled the hair of the person in the seat in front of me.
Up on the big screen horses were running free through the fields of England while I was squeezed face down between two rows of theater seats with Diet Dr Pepper all over my shirt. The man in front of me jumped up to help which made me feel guilty for him missing the movie so I started saying,”No, no, I’m OK!” I pulled myself up while loudly whispering apologies. What an idiot.
I gathered myself and hobbled quickly out of the theater and went to ask for another cup since mine had been flattened by the fall. Then I crept back in and sat down in one of those front rows where you have to crane your neck to see. But at least I was in a sitting position, nuggetless, but sitting in a seat.
After only a few minutes I realized that my left foot was throbbing with pain. I wrapped some ice in a napkin and held it to my foot throughout the movie. When it was over I pulled my stocking off to discover that the left side of my foot was purple and swollen.
I am a walking sitcom.
Knowing I wouldn’t be able to run around for the rest of the day, I narrowed my list to Sam’s Club and Target. Those were the only places with grocery carts, which I could use like a walker to hold me up. The way I’m going, I will be doing all of my shopping from a motorized handicap cart very soon.
While I was in Sam’s I noticed a man behind me. It seemed like he was following me because every time I’d turn to look at him he’d jump to pretend he was looking at something. At first I thought I was being paranoid, but after a while he kept popping up until finally I asked him outright, “Excuse me, are you following me?”
I’m not the best at coming up with the right thing to say when I’m under pressure.
There was that tense moment when you think to yourself, “You are so stupid and now you’ve offended this nice man that really was just looking for peanut butter in the magazine aisle.” But then he said, “I’m so sorry. My wife says she recognizes you from your blog and she noticed you are limping and wanted me to see if you needed help, but I didn’t know how to approach you.”
So you thought the best thing was to stalk me and make me scared to go into the parking lot alone?
His wife came around the corner and we all laughed and introduced ourselves properly. She doesn’t want her name on the blog, but I’m pretty sure she will recognize herself in this story.
While we were talking I made the quick decision not to tell them I had a movie theater injury. They were being so nice that I didn’t want to see their faces when they realized that I am not as graceful as I seem on the blog.
Today I am sore in all kinds of weird places, like I must have tensed up when I fell and awakened muscles that I seldom call upon. But my foot will be fine in a few days and I will be back to normal. No permanent damage done, except to my confidence.
And if I didn’t say it yesterday, thank you to the stalking husband for your concern and offer to help. And thank you to the man in the theater who, even though I pulled his hair and spilled a little bit of Diet Dr Pepper on him was kind enough to try to rescue me from my awkward position on the floor of the theater.
There are still a few gentlemen in this world.