This is a story about how I fell down last week in Washington DC — not figuratively, but literally. Like, face down, inside a restaurant.
While explaining the logistics of last week’s trip to friends and family, I feel like I am telling one of those math word problems with two trains headed toward one another at different speeds. On June 22 Susan and I hopped in my car headed for West Virginia, on June 27 I drove from West Virginia to Washington DC, and on July 1 the two of us hopped in my car headed back to Oklahoma. In the middle of those dates, Susan flew home for a few days and flew back out to DC a few days later before I left. The only takeaway you really need to know for this story is that for a few days, I was by myself in Washington DC.
The place where I was staying in DC required me to take a bus to get to a metro station before taking the metro into downtown DC. It was my first time staying at this location and knowing that Susan would return in a couple of days, I opted instead to eat at local restaurants I could walk to. One of those places was a pizza restaurant. Call me lazy, but I figured a large pizza would last me at least three meals, which meant less walking in summer temperatures and DC humidity.
Upon entering the restaurant, a series of events happened very quickly. First, I entered a dark restaurant and didn’t give my eyes time to adjust. Second, because I knew I would be dealing with a cashier I was in the process of putting on my reading glasses, which really affect my depth perception. Third, the restaurant’s concrete floor was painted with dark maroon paint.
I took two steps into the restaurant and on the third discovered — too late! — that there was a step DOWN. My right heel caught the edge of the step, my left knee buckled, and before I could catch my balance I felt myself heading face first toward the floor.
From a standing position and down a step, I landed knees first on the concrete floor before sprawling out onto my elbows. (Fortunately, my face was spared.) I occasionally have problems getting up after laying on the floor, but you would be surprised how quickly one can leap to his or her feet with half a dozen employees and a restaurant full of people staring at you.
Under other circumstances I would have immediately turned and left the restaurant, but unfortunately for me, I had ordered the pizza online and already paid for it. By the time I collected myself and approached the front counter, I could hear employees debating whether or not they should call me an ambulance. “No, I think he’s up,” said one. When the cashier reached for my pizza, I asked him if he could wrap it in bubble wrap.
I made my way out of the restaurant as quickly as possible (being sure to look for the step up on my way out). I was wearing blue jeans, and I knew my knees were bleeding by how much they stung every time they touched my pants.
Once I made it back to our place I immediately dropped my drawers to inspect the damage. Both knees were skinned pretty good, and a few minutes later I felt something rubbing against my shirt sleeve which turned out to be skin from my elbow. That’s fun.
I wish I could say that my ego was more bruised than my body, but this time that wasn’t the case. On my left knee I’ve developed two quarter-sized bruises, one on either side of the scrape. Worse now is my back, which feels like someone took a baseball bat to the muscles that allow me to stand. They say things get worse before they get better, and I spent several days with things getting worse. I’m still patiently waiting for the part where things get better.
While I’m moving a little more slowly than usual I’m still getting around, mostly thanks to the Ibuprofen I’m popping like M&Ms. Things could have been worse, and the whole thing was a good (but somewhat painful) reminder that I need to take things a little more slowly.