Part of being awkward is being clumsy, and that means that I trip, stumble, and bang into things on a daily basis. Going up the stairs, going down the stairs, walking while texting, walking while paying attention, it’s all bad. That being said, my main mode of transportation around campus is actually a long-board. I know, shocking. I’m honestly quite amazed at myself as well; how I even manage to ride around every day with killing myself is a miracle.
Sadly, it was only a matter of time before my clumsiness and my long boarding would collide. Here I will retell exactly how it did, will full and excessive detail:
I am cruising down the side walk, it is a beautiful day. Not quite noon yet, not too warm, I got to sleep in, haven’t been to class yet, feeling good. I’m picking up speed, enjoying not having to push as much. I glide by my peers, nodding my head slightly, feeling confident in my skills.
I approach a sharp right hand turn, access the situation, and note my options. I know that I can make the turn, no problem, but the process is complicated by the fact that I will have to cross the bike path. This means two things: one, I have to be aware of potential threats from oncoming bikers, and two, I have to navigate over the hellish yellow bumps that line the crossings that I’m pretty sure were designed by Satan himself.
Having taken all of this into consideration, I decide that it is best to slow down before making the turn, so I deploy my foot brake. It is as I am dragging my foot on the ground that the god of Awkwardness decides to intervene. I’m pretty sure he thought that I was doing too well, and feeling too confidant, and decided to knock me down a peg, reminding me of place. It was his intervention that somehow sent me flying into the air.
Next thing I know I am slamming into the ground, hitting my right knee on the concrete and then falling sideways into the dirt. While this may have been a blessing in disguise, the chunks of black dirt that got dumped down the back of my pants only added insult to injury. And then of course everyone within a mile’s radius comes running over. Seeing this, I quickly hop up, assuring the concerned citizens that, “I’m fine. Really I’m fine.” I grab my board and hurry away.
I don’t assess the damage until I am safely back in my room. I look at the knee that took most of the fall, and see a bloody mess peeking through my torn jeans. My initial reaction is anger, as I am very upset that I tore one of my favorite pair of jeans. It’s only as the adrenaline begins to wear off that I realize I banged myself up pretty badly. I take my pants off, spilling dirt everywhere, and hobble to the bathroom to clean it off. I call my pre-med friend, who is luckily able to bandage me up, and long story short, I spend the next two weeks hobbling around, a constant reminder of my glorious awkwardness.
If anyone asked, I told them that I got into a longboarding accident. Unfortunately, when they would then ask for more details, I would have to embarrassingly reply, “I just fell down.”