My Fear of Falling Down Steps

My grandmother was always dressed to the nines.  I don't recall any occasion that she wore pants - just Ralph Lauren wool and knits, Pendelton wear and the occasional Dana Buchman (back when Dana Buchman was bigtime Pre-Kohls).

Her heels were always high, stockings never run, hair done and face finished with the perfect amount of powder and lipstick.  She dined often with her girlfriends, most of them decked out in more of the same fashion.

When I was 12, she decided it was time to bring me, her only granddaughter to lunch with the ladies.  Their favorite lunch spot was an expensive prim and proper restaurant with dim lighting and jazz in the background.  Back then, everyone dressed up when going out to lunch or dinner, everyone looked amazing and enjoyed the social aspect of the dining experience.

My mom got me ready.  A Gunne Sax dress that can only be described as 'delightfully tacky' but very 'in' at the time, nude hose, and cream colored mini pumps.  Excuse me while I go and vomit.  There, I'm better.  The mere thought of the well-deserved fashion ass-kickings that I avoided makes me cringe.
This is the closest I could find to the dress I wore on that cursed day.
So there I sat at a table full of 60-somethings who were oohing and aahing for my grandmother's sake over my special dress and my off-white satin ribbon in my hair.  I am certain, however, they were looking at my dark moustache that was like the elephant in the room, sympathetic that I was afflicted with such bad genes yet understanding I was simply too young for wax. 

After two Shirley Temples, I excused myself politely to go to the bathroom.  We were on a second level of dining and the stairs were right near my grandmother's table.  Not confident in my ability to walk in pumps, I shuffled somewhat the wrong way causing me to trip and fall all the way down the stairs.  The first level was tiled so all you could hear when I landed was a loud SMACK of my face hitting the floor.  I stayed down, too shocked to move.  I am certain that several minutes had passed.  All of my grandmother's friends stared at me in horror with their napkins falling off their laps, Merlot stained teeth and gums flapping in the chatter of my awkward fall. ('She has no business wearing those pumps if she can't walk in them..' chatter chatter...'Her Gunne Sax is clearly too long on her..' chatter chatter...' This is why I refuse to bring my granddaughter to my lunches..' chatter chatter)

 My grandmother quickly urged me off of the dirty floor that I was contently resting my chubby cheek on, finding serenity from the cool floor on my hot cheeks.  She carried me by my elbow into the ladies' room never once asking if I was ok, but merely reassuring me that I was fine and to wash up and get back to the table.

I was never invited back to the Ladies who Lunch outing again.  Nor was I ever the same around stairs.

I am, reassured, however by others who have fallen after me, in bigger and more spectacular ways.  I find comfort, that even in failure, I'm truly an underachiever.

For example.

Steven Tyler I don't know what's funnier, the thought if him falling so many times that you can look it up by specific city, or the fact that no one seems to care that he's fallen during the show? Is that Joe Perry nudging him off? Interesting.

Bono: This is a bit ridiculous - he is way cooler than anyone in the world, even when falling off the stage.

Beyonc√©: Just because she is wearing 6 " Hooker Heels, she is so not getting a pass for wiping out.  I enjoyed every minute of this one.  Not invincible now are we?

Runway Models:
Then there is this Youtube clip that I get entirely too much joy from watching models falling on the runway.  Perhaps a diet of meth and champagne causes instability on runway?  Is it wrong to wish that just once, one of Leonardo's models would fall off of a runway so he finally stops his obsession with dating them?

Finally, a montage of people falling downstairs - I feel somewhat badly about the fact I had a stomach cramp from laughing so hard.

Whatever your epic fail is, I hope you find peace in knowing someone did it better than you.

1 comment:

  1. stairs mock me with their slippery surfaces or carpetty softness. I always have to concentrate and am always anxiously holding the side bar. Imagine me with a baby in my arms staring down the stairs... I have to go down... I hope the stairs don't go Animaniacs-flop-down-into-a-slide on me, was all I could think.

    Yeah... stairs are vicious things.


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