Thursday, August 13, 2009

Dear Lady on the LIRR...I'm sorry I laughed when your duffle hit you in the face.

This morning I was riding the LIRR and witnessed some poor woman living her very own FML moment. She was tossing her duffle bag up onto the top rack when it came flying back at her, smacking her in the head, knocking off her glasses and catapulting her body into the man sitting across the isle. She looked HORRIFIED…and what did I do?

I laughed.

I laughed loud enough for the whole train to hear me…

This type of thing happens to me on a daily basis, so when it actually happens to someone else I find it hilarious. I can’t even begin to remember all of the times I have been smacked in the head by a duffle bag, magazine or another human being (that actually only happened once…but it resulted in a broken nose and a bruised ego at summer camp in 8th grade…instead of catching the football to impress Harrison Briggs, I caught some kids head with my face and proceeded to bleed profusely all over the field.)

Anyway…after witnessing this poor woman’s horrendous start to the day, I thought I would share one of my favorite clumsy commuting stories…

The incident happened on my way home from my internship last summer. I was running through the streets of NYC, attempting to fight off hundreds of Nikon wielding, Asian tourists on 34th street and I was in a dead sprint for the train. I had about 4 minutes to make it and it wasn’t looking promising. It was about 750 degrees and I was sweating like a prostitute in church. My brisk walk down 34th street became a run. Down the stairs, through the hoards of people…I’m was thinking I might actually make it!!!! I found my track and headed in the direction of the stairs, the last call notification was being made as I sprinted towards the 20 or so stairs that stood in between me and a crowded, yet air-conditioned train car. Down the steps one by one I ran.

Then it happend…

Half way down, I trip and tumble the remaining 10 steps...

In front of the packed 5:33 train…

The passengers gasp AND POINT as my dress flips up and I come to a rolling stop at the end of the stairs. The doors close, but I can still see the whole train starring at me. The train pulls away…I hate my life. While it was mortifying…I’m over it. Bruised, sweaty and laughing I make my way back up the steps and wait for the next train.

If you trip... I will laugh. And next time I fall down…I hope laugh at me!



1 comment:

  1. At the end of the day, as long as you fall in style, laugh it off, and strut away confidently, people will wish they fell alongside your feroshh self.

    HA! Loved this!