Lessons In Being A Klutz

I am going to tell you a little story about my day at the courthouse.  I went to shadow a judge through a program at my law school, and it started out all fun and games.  The judge was very kind and I sat in on a whole bunch of law-ey things that would bore you to tears to explain, but I promise you it was all very exciting.  And lawyer-ey.

Anyhoo, he had a trial scheduled for that afternoon and of course little miss pint-sized-bladder (i.e. me) found herself needing to use the bathroom halfway through opening statements.  I had enough willpower to wait until a sidebar, but my strength didn’t go much further.  The moment the judge and lawyers went to the side of the courtroom I slipped out and headed to the bathroom.

I thought leaving during the trial would be the most embarrassing thing I did that day.  I was wrong.  Very, very wrong. After I washed my hands in the bathroom (yay for hygiene!) I turned toward the paper towel dispenser and did my best Nancy Kerrigan impression as I slipped on some water and landed LITERALLY face down on the bathroom floor.

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It was a beauty of a fall.  Really.  If it was taped, I’m pretty sure I could become one of those slow-mo videos they use on America’s Funniest Videos.  I managed to hit my knee and elbow before smacking me cheek into the bathroom tiles, and it’s probably a good thing that those two body parts broke my fall first.  Miraculously, I got right back up, dried my hands, and returned to the courtroom with a brand new welt on my face.  According to the other girl shadowing me, it just looked like I put on some blush.

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This is what I imagine I looked like — as when she said this, I had no actual mirror.

Anyway, since it’s possible this baby will bruise over night I’ve been thinking about all the cool ways that I could explain my potential face bruise.  I mean, slipping in the bathroom is pretty funny (I’ve laughed my fair share about it) but if given the opportunity, why not spice it up a bit?  The top contenders are:

1) I got in a full on brawl with one of the court marshals because he gave my shoes a funny look.  The moral of the story, of course, would be that discerning glances should be kept to yourself whenever it involves another’s footwear.  Particularly if that footwear belongs to me.

2)  I got caught by a herd of jurors in the bathroom at the end of their break and was trampled as they ran back to the over-air-conditioned court room.

3)  I walked into a door because I was so distracted by a young, strapping lawyer’s good looks.  He, of course, came to my aid and held a cold Coke zero bottle to my swelling cheek while insisting that I let him take me to dinner after his trial.

Sort of really wishing that last one had happened.  I mean, how much of a meet cute would that be?  Anyhoo, the real truth, as you read, is that I’m just plain clumsy.  Although I do think the water on the floor is a bit to blame there.  I’m not just slipping everywhere; usually there’s some catalyst — and yes, sometimes it is my own feet.  But, hey, at least my klutziness gives me some good stories.

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