The scene: Party at guy’s house I’ve just met. I score a prime spot sitting on a piling at the end of the dock, watching fireworks. Midnight strikes.
I'm wearing: gorgeous-but-ugly-sounding pink and gold dress, with gorgeous-but-ugly-sounding pink and gold shoes. This dress only matches these shoes, and vice versa.
Shortly after midnight, I realize I didn't kiss Shawn yet, and stand up, all excited.
The next thing I know, I'm underwater.
I fell right through a hole in the pier where a board was missing. (Embarrassingly, I actually made note of the hole when I originally parked my tushie there, but got excited at midnight and forgot.)
As I'm brushing the wet hair out of my eyes, I don't realize it yet, but I manage to beat myself up pretty badly on the way down. (Thank god I'm as skinny as I am, or it would have been worse. I fell through a pretty small rabbit hole.) The only thing I know is, I'm chest-deep in very cold water, my expensive shoe is slipping off, and people are FREAKING THE FUCK OUT above me. I'm trying to ignore them and secure my left shoe, but I hear Shawn and Jennifer beginning to panic, so I leave the shoe and get to where I can wave and they can see me, so I can show them that I'm all right.
And I lose the fucking shoe. I hand up the right one and spend the next 15 minutes searching with my feet among nasty mud and seaweed, looking for my pretty, pretty shoe. That I special ordered. That there was only one other pair left in the entire state of Florida one month ago – now, who knows?
During the search, Shawn is laying on the dock with her head hanging over, the whole time saying, "Do you want me to come in there? I'll come in, I swear."
I tell her that her dress is new and way too pretty, but eventually I start to think she wants to come in and tell her to jump. She chickens out. (Later, she told me she really wanted to come in, but chickened out.)
I never find the shoe. Finally, I allow some boys to pull me out, and the guy hosting the party brings me some towels because my teeth are now chattering.
The upshot is, I dry off at the bonfire, Jennifer lends me an acceptable but not 1/110th as pretty pair of shoes, and she says two interesting things while were dancing at a club later:
Interesting Thing #1. (About an hour after fall) "I hate you. You were in the fucking ocean not one hour ago, and you look exactly the same as you did when you left the house."
What can I say? I dry well. (Unless that was her way of telling me I looked like a drowned rat at the beginning of the night. Hmm.)
Interesting Thing #2. "I can't believe that happened to you. Just can't believe it."
To which I replied: "Sweetie, I am not the least bit surprised. I fully expect things like this to happen to me. They wouldn't happen to anyone else, and after 26 years, that lesson has been firmly pounded into my beat up little head."
Physical Damage Report:
Bad, but could be worse.
* The missing shoe is the saddest part, but Party Host Guy assured me he would find it and fish it out the next day, so I guess I have to stop by there and see if that happened.
* The dress can be dry-cleaned, but no longer has lovely shoes to partner with.
* Large but not daunting looking bruise on left inner shin. Why is it the bruises that don't look like anything are always the ones that hurt the worst? Shin bruise is accompanied by several scrapes, one of which is the recipient of the "Bloodiest Injury On Jamie Of 1/1/03 Award."
* Another frightfully large but not dark bruise on right thigh. On ENTIRE right thigh. Unbelievably sore.
* The real beauty is where my left upper thigh meets my ass cheek. Larger than my fist, dark scary bloody purple. Hurts to sit. Looks just like the bad girl has been spanked. Perhaps she has. (I’m working on borrowing a digital camera so I can post this one. It’s worth mooning the internet to share this bad boy.)
* Scabby scrape on stomach, right below belly button. Like I said, it's lucky I'm not fatter. I'd have had an involuntary and extremely painful liposuction.
* Bruise and scrape on inside of right forearm. Not bad. I believe this type of injury is known in the industry as "dock rash."
(It's also lucky that I kind of tipped over once I fell halfway - this saved me from removing my own breasts and nose with the dock plank.)
Fall Out Damage Report:
Not bad at all, considering.
* Slightly embarrassed, but too full of champagne to give a flying fuck.
* Party host guy dirtied 2 towels and was probably worried about a lawsuit or something.
* Lingering smell of bonfire for rest of evening.
* Shawn almost got into a fight with some girl who made fun of me on our way out. I didn't even get a look at the bitch, but Shawn was so mad and ranty that she almost got her ass pulled over for driving like a maniac, and so another friend revoked her DD privileges and was forced to sober up.
* The experience just kind of killed my momentum and wore me out. After about 2 hours of dancing, I was sick of everyone and everything and just ready to go home and hit the sack. So I did.
* Time in frigid water possible contributor to Horrible Head Cold that is currently kicking my bruised ass.
* No Tae Kwon Do for a while. If I can't even sit in a chair or drive without pain, I doubt fighting is a very good idea.
Speaking of the Horrible Head Cold, I’d like to announce right here, right now:
The “Non-Drowsy” Cold And Sinus Sudafed is a dirty, dirty lie. I’ve almost smacked my head on my keyboard about 9 times this afternoon as I keep nodding off.
Watch out for the rabbit holes, kids.
Those things fucking hurt.