Falling Star

I don’t care how nice you are, somewhere in the recesses of everyone’s mind, there exists a recollection of someone falling down – one that when conjured will bring forth an irrepressible snicker or chuckle. Admit it, you’re thinking about it right now. Perhaps you’re imagining a pair of arms flailing wildly about, maybe the awkward gyrations of hips attempting to regain balance, or the potent trajectory of a shoe, a purse, a book, or a plate. It’s okay; I’ll give you a moment. Don’t feel bad; you’re human.

I have such recollections, but my favorite story about falling was one I didn’t actually witness. The incident happened to a close friend. We’ll call her, Jaime, since that’s her name. Let’s even go as far as to say she’s my former spouse. This is significant because the snicker and chuckles I get from the story are due to how well I know Jaime, and it’s the aftermath and reaction, not the act of falling, that cracks me up the most.

Jaime has been called shy most of her life, even though she’s not. She is quiet, though it has nothing to do with being shy; Jaime just doesn’t enjoy the coruscations of the social spotlight. When amongst strangers, she pretty much hates it even more. If there were a high school Who’s Who award for Least Likely to Cause A Scene, Jaime would want to win hands down (no pun intended). If you know someone like Jaime, you may agree that falling down in public might rank reasonably high on their list of things to avoid at all costs. However, one of my favorite qualities about Jaime is that in the midst of situations she considers mortifying, she possesses an exceptional ability to find humor in those moments when the universe spits on her neck.

It was just an ordinary trip to the bank, or at least it should have been. Had she just been able to use the drive through, it wouldn’t have happened. She had bought a new shirt recently, and she thought she looked pretty good in it. It’s never been customary for Jaime to give any kudos to her sense of fashion, but on this day, she felt good about the shirt. She would later claim the following events were karma’s way of checking her ego.

In retrospect, all the elements for disaster seemed obvious: the hot asphalt, a smear of motor oil, a pair of flat soled shoes, a curb. As she stepped up on the curb, her oily sole slipped, and suddenly she was on the ground – on the ground directly in front of the bank.

Some might have laughed; some might have cursed aloud; some might have cried. Jaime entered damage control mode. For her it boiled down to a simple question: How many people just saw me do that and is it enough to justify a flight response? She looked up to assess the crowd of potential onlookers and found only herself in the reflection of the bank’s expansive tinted glass. She assessed the parking lot and concluded her performance had likely earned a decent size fan base. Perhaps they didn’t see? She had, after all, fallen as subtly as she could. It crossed her mind to leave, but she bravely decided to persevere and entered the bank.

Whenever Jaime fell, she always followed up with a concise report of the happenings to those closest to her. Later that evening, she gave such an account of the events to her mother who offered the following: “Well, it’s a good thing you decided to go in otherwise it would have looked as if you just went to the bank to fall.”

This post is part of a synchronized blogging project called The Creative Collective – a group of artists, bloggers, and writers who post on a particular topic every two weeks. This week’s topic was “Falling.” Read more posts on this topic at http://synchrobloggers.wordpress.com/2011/09/20/falling.

Advertisement