Ass-Over-Teakettle

So Kim had a marvelous idea to go to the theater and see Wicked before it leaves Boston. I've never been to the theater, and hadn't been out-and-about in Boston in years, so needless to say, I was thrilled! 

We went to the Thursday night show. It was a coincidence that an audit was scheduled for work that day, so I wore my favorite dress and Manolo Blahnik patent-leather-and-linen Mary Jane's. At the end of the day, I slipped on the cheapy pair of black ballet flats I keep in my drawer as just-in-case shoes, and tucked the heels into their shoe bag to put on again later.

I dashed to the train station, parked, scurried in, bought my ticket and waited five minutes for the train. Two stops before I had to disembark, I swapped shoes. As I buckled the strap of my Manolo's, I noticed that the bottom of the shoe had started to peel away from the heel. Since the actual heel wasn't split, I finished buckling the strap and slipped my flats into the Manolo bag.

The doors opened, I dashed through the station, up the stairs and exited into the sounds and sights of a bustling, night-time Boston. Warm, moist air, lights glittering against a twilight sky, pod people glued to their phones, and live music. Kim, looking radiant in a linen green dress with pearl earrings and a matching necklace, stood a few feet away. After a brief hug, I looked down and noticed her lovely flat sandals.

We meandered on over to the Boston Opera House, got our cocktails and climbed to the balcony seats. As other patrons took their seats I was chagrin at how casual has seeped into the fancy aspects of society. Where has gone the sense of ceremony?! This was the Boston Opera House, and people showed up in shorts, khakis and jeans, and T-shirts.  I did, however, admire the fashionable, and comfy-looking Birkenstock-esque shoes of a woman seated across the row.

The show was magnificent; I was completely blown away with all that was accomplished on just one stage! And to quote the inestimable Wayne Campbell, "Those chicks could wail!" The story was funny, poignant, engaging and truly unique.

Intermission was bathroom break and the line was a mile long. When we arrived at the stall entrance, the house lights started flashing. The theater attendant said that if we didn't get back to our seats before the show started, we'd have to watch the first nine minutes of the second half on a TV screen in the hall. We opted to for the screen. Whilst in my stall, I noticed the flip-flops on my neighbor's feet.

The second half flew by. Kim and I decided to make our exit before the last bow, while everyone else was still clapping. I grabbed my plastic cup, so as not to be a litter bug, and we scurried down the hall, to the stairs. Normally I cling to railings for dear life because I'm prone to falls, but I had my cup in hand and I was just not thinking. 

Halfway down the second flight my heel got caught in the rug and I tumbled, ass-over-teakettle, down the stairs. Fortunately, the the whole experience was in slow motion, and I had the wherewithal let my relax to a gelatinous state, so I could just go with the fall. This probably saved me from irreparable damage (Kim later said she feared for my face!) 

I bolted upright from the heap into which I landed, and vaguely noticed a burning sting on my knee. The scorching humiliation was epically more painful, so I ignored it and was ready to run. A theater attendant with better eyes than mine scurried over and pointed out trails of blood trickling down my leg. I then limped over to a set of chairs, where more flurried attention was thrust upon me. 

I took off my Manolos (the stuck heel was actually ripped out of my shoe) and Kim gave me my flats, that the universe had been telling me ALL NIGHT  LONG to put back on. More employees showed up with gauze, bandages, and a package of dried up Wet Ones. After I cleaned up my leg, and staunched the flow of blood, I pulled back the gauze to see what I was dealing with. There was a little mouth on my knee! Next stop Emergency Room.

When Kim pulled up, I limped out into to her car (a great downpour had commenced at this point), and she took me to my Jeep parked in the Braintree garage so I could retrieve my insurance card.  Google said South Shore Hospital was ten minute away. Score!

She dropped me at the entrance and went to park. While I was registering, Kim came in and gave me a cardigan. Her timing couldn't have been better as I was starting to shiver. After I was given my hospital bracelet, I firmly refused to be wheeled in a chair to the waiting area, and hobbled to a chair and collapsed into it. I got to watch the last thirty seconds of what I hear was an ugly Patriots win. One guy even waved his hand at the TV and grumbled, "That was horrible!" Kim sat next to me with some homework to keep her occupied.

When my name was called., the nurse insisted I sit in a wheelchair, so I acquiesced. After my vitals were taken I was rolled on back to an exam room. The charming PA introduced himself, and replied, "Hi. You know I got all dressed up just to come in and meet you." That made him laugh. 

I rehashed my harrowing experience and he gave me an exam. I was a bit irritated that he wanted me to get an X-ray, since his exam clearly indicated no broken bones, AND he said the X-ray would only catch anything metal. The cha-ching of a cash register kept clanging away in my head, and I was supremely annoyed that trained medical professionals must insist on superfluous tests just to cover their asses, which contributes to skyrocketing medical costs. But I held my tongue in check, got my X-rays and was wheeled back to the exam room.

He sutured me up (seven stitches in all) and a nurse put my dressing on. After I was given the okay to go by the nurse, I gimped out of my exam room. I said good-bye to the PA, who said it was great to meet me (of course it was) then hobbled to the waiting room. Kim, the-best-friend-anyone-could-ever-ask-for-and-I-don't-know-what-I-did-to-deserve-her, collected her things and went to get her car. I got all my paperwork and left the ER. 

The rain was done, and the night sky was now a black blanket a-twinkle with stars, and the air smelled of ozone. I collapsed into the passenger seat and Kim chauffeured me back to the Jeep. My knee was shot full of so much lidocaine I was able to work the clutch, and drive my gimpy self home.

At one point Kim actually said, "You're never going to want to go out with me again!" I snorted and iterated, that I wouldn't blame her if SHE never wanted to take ME out again. 

A night out with me is unforgettable!