Setting: Bar on E. 12th St., 3 a.m., at a birthday party for a friend's acquaintance.
Decision: Use a too-short feather boa as a jump rope.
Context: Everybody was dancing silly and I went for a bold new move.
Result: Stumbling over the feather boa, slamming down to the floor face first, and twisting my ankle.
Crowd reaction: Delight.
Morning aftermath: Ow, ow, ow, my ankle hurts. If I had a girlfriend or mom on the premises, I'd probably be on my way to the doctor's office.
Lesson learned: No guts, no glory, but personal safety should be your highest priority.
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Cole Slaw Blog is maintained by two grown adults who have been known to order Georgia Reubens. For lovin' or bile, contact us at coleslawblog (at) gmail.
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8 comments:
Two months! Ouch!
I'm ambulatory and it's gotten noticeably better since I woke up this morning. From now on I'll save the acrobatic stunts for when I'm sober. At least I didn't break my nose or hit my head.
I like to think of Crimenotes' punishment as cosmic justice. He became angry and abusive on the phone when I told him I wasn't going to join him at the bar, but was instead going to make it an early night.
Of course, I got my comeuppance _ I missed seeing my co-blogger trip on a feather boa. Now he'll probably be gunshy at the Memorial Day rooftop cookout.
I endured 60 minutes of lame soccer talk on Friday night just so you didn't have to drink alone before Danielle (HMBPDQ2K6) met up. The least you could have done is show up to see me incur a devastating ankle injury from a feather boa.
And dance around in a witch's hat.
And carry a toaster down Avenue A.
And throw Fruity Pebbles.
I once thought it was wise to climb over a fence rather than walk around it to get to an ATM. I suffered a hairline fracture of my collarbone, leaving Winston to lug our bags around Europe while I moaned and acted even more like a whiny little bitch than Flop after Pistons-Cavs Game 7. So I feel your pain.
I should add that I was fairly drunk at the time, but not so drunk as to make it excusable ... or to fully dull the pain. But at least I didn't try to jump rope with a feather boa. What were you thinking -- "It's 3 a.m., I'm drunk, so I might as well come out of the closet and start working out"?
BB: What were you thinking -- "It's 3 a.m., I'm drunk, so I might as well come out of the closet and start working out"?
Answer: "It's 3 a.m., I'm the most entertaining person in the world, and it's time to try a new stunt." I pulled out all the old classics -- throwing cereal, eating a rose petal, etc. etc. It was time to up the ante. But like Icarus, my hubris was my downfall.
As Lee Corso would say "Ohhhh, not a good decision.
Works when a safety jumps a post route, and it works when a loser jumps a feather boa.
Don't blame the feather boa.
If it wasn't a feather boa, it might have been a backflip off a couch or a fatal breakdancing move.
If you'd been there, I probably would have had an accident that ended my life. Then where would you be? Drinking alone while you wait for Danielle and whine about Cleveland sports. Good luck with that.
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