Until one day it almost did.
The escalators at International Square are of the super narrow kind that only has room for one person (rather than two people side by side). I was still in the throes of fear over the scariest experience of my existence so rather than walking down the very short escalator as I had done in the past, I not only stood for the ride but held onto both railings. However not even that saved me.
To this day I am unclear as to what actually happened. The best I can guess is that I misjudged how close to the bottom of the escalator I was so when I stepped off, thinking solid ground would be right there, it wasn't. And I managed to fall down the last two, steadily disappearing, escalator steps. My right foot folded under me and for a wee moment I was standing on my ankle before I completely collapsed. I can only be grateful that my embarrassment was limited to the one gentleman behind me (rather than the hoards of people who usually swarm International Square). He was thankfully far enough behind me on the evil people mover that we did not collide because I couldn't get up. My problem being not only what I was sure was a broken ankle, but the fact that I was trying to use the escalator rails to push myself up but the buggering things kept moving me forward. So maybe I half fell down a few more times.
I was finally able to launch myself into a semi standing position and all but threw myself on the lip of the giant cigarette ash urn thing that was handily located right at the bottom of the escalator. Once I was out of his way the gentleman rushed to me to ask me if I were ok while nicely ignoring my previous floundering. I assured him that I was fine (I was decidedly NOT fine), that this happens all the time (sadly true) and that I just needed to rest for a couple minutes. I sat there for about 10 minutes until my ankle went from screaming pain to a throbbing dullness, all the while smiling at everyone who passed as though I sit on cigarette urns every day.
When I felt well enough, I dragged myself reluctantly off the urn and limped to 5 Guys. Because hell yes I was still getting my bacon cheeseburger and fries. As if I was going to have nearly killed myself for them and return to the office sans their artery clogging gloriousness.
Shortly after getting back to my office and demolishing my well deserved burger I realized that the trauma and grease had made me quite thirsty. I gazed longingly at the empty water bottle sitting on my desk but my ankle, which was propped up on my CPU, had vigorously renewed it's throbbing. I guiltily sent a Skype message to a coworker with whom I'd been working only a short time and asked if she would do a very menial task and please get me some water. Bless her, she came right over and when I explained what had happened she suggested she get some ice for me as well.
Coincidentally or not, she's now a very good friend.
When she came back to my office with the requested water and ice our ueber boss was in there talking to me. She made this little gesture towards me like, do I give this to you with him in here or not. I waved her forward because I didn't care, set the water on my desk and slapped the bag of ice on my ankle, which my boss was now noticing was propped up on the CPU. I just looked at him and said, quite simply, "I fell down again."
He just rolled his eyes at me and continued talking.
I had an opera opening that Saturday so I did not leave for, Moldova I think it was, until Sunday. At the opera, the season opening no less, my lovely black cocktail dress and black sequined shoes looked odd against the Ace bandage holding together my ankle. For the flight I found a different kind of wrap, this odd blue gummy thing that acted like an Ace but was cold! It was brilliant for the flight. Of course then I had to change planes in Germany and go through security and almost miss my flight cause they were all 'what the heck is that'. Despite the many times I have almost missed flights in Germany (due more to my office's travel agent and his "legal" layovers that to the Germans) I will say that as uptight as Germans are about security, they still manage to be more efficient, more polite, and don't require that you off your shoes than the invasive, power hungry, masochistic folks at the TSA.
So yeah, from then on I stopped being so cocky while on escalators and now I firmly plant myself (on the right, thank you) and ride the escalator all the way down.
