Have a Nice Trip; See You Next Fall

I went to a company retreat several weeks ago.  It’s actually not a retreat.  It’s a boring training conference.  I think maybe the uppers just call it a “retreat” so the rest of us will feel better about going. 

And, actually, it wasn’t that boring this time.  They hired some guest speaker dude, Steve Pisca- something, who played his guitar and sang about boring meetings (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a-8uVR8iezk).  If you don’t see the humor in that, you have never sat through a boring meeting.  (Is “boring meeting” a redundancy?)  

Anyway, our first night of the retreat, my co-workers, T, J, M and I went out to dinner.  It was an upscale trendy burger and bottle place (http://www.blancburgers.com) where you can get a fancy-pants burger (M had bison!) and a bottle of beer or soda pop- you know, the vintage-y kinds. 

So, as we were leaving the place, I tripped and fell.  Yes, fell.  Flat-on-my-face-sprawled-out-on-the-concrete fell.  I wasn’t drinking or chewing gum or anything! 

Funny how falling is done in slow motion.  In the 1.5 seconds it took my face to become intimate with the sidewalk, I was able to have this conversation with myself:  “Crap I didn’t see that step!  It’s too late to catch myself; I’m going down.  Am I really falling?! How stupid.  Why don’t I know how to walk?  This is embarrassing.  Oh no, there is a chair rapidly approaching my face- please God, don’t let me hit the chair.  (Then I had a flash of the scene from Million Dollar Baby- you know, where she hits her head on the chair). And, I’m wearing my glasses.  I don’t want to scratch my face or break my nose- please God, don’t let me hit my face. (Then I had a flash of the scene from White Chicks where the snobby rich girls scream about having a nonexistent scar.)” 

(Yes, in fact, I do have flashes of scenes from movies that mix in with my life; just go with it.)

(Slam.)  “I knew I shouldn’t have come to this %@&* retreat.”  I’m not sure what happened after that because the pain from landing on my left thumb took over my entire existence for the remainder of the night.  I do remember, however, thinking something like, “Am I already approaching my golden years of falling and hip replacements?  My next stop is a medical alert alarm and the nursing home!”

Well, I survived with no scars- real or imagined- (except maybe the one to my ego). 

But my thumb still hurts.