Not a Fan of Wet Concrete

Last night we had a company outing at the Bats (Minor League) game.  And though it was raining, I think we were all prepared to have good time and try to do everything BUT talk about work.  It was Thirsty Thursday so the brews were cheap and I had a great time talking with the people I never get to work on project with.  It started out good.  Really good, in fact.

But then it went bad.  For me at least.  I was obviously aware of the rain and I understand that when things get wet they have the tendency to get slick.  And I was also aware that the concrete floors at the stadium change when you walk under a roofed area (they’re a smoother, finished concrete floor).  I was even aware of the bright yellow CAUTION: WET FLOOR signs.  But I did not anticipate lying flat on my back, tears welling up in my eyes while people’s faces started popping into my line of vision.  Yep.  I slipped.  Just like a cartoon character on a banana peel. 

A kind lady stepped right over and said “You hit your head, EMS will come to you.”  And then proceeded to yell over her shoulder that the stadium should really make this safer because 30 seconds before a lady holding a child had slipped.  A LADY HOLDING A CHILD!?!?  And these people are helping me!?!?  Go help that lady with the kid!!  My HR ended seeing it (me) all go down and EMS was very nice.  When I couldn’t find their badges on their shirts I asked “Are you with Metro or Yellow?”  Habit [I guess] from having a best friend who’s a paramedic.  They were Yellow, not that you care. 

So after I realized that I banged my noggin, I wept (it hurt, dude!), I apologized for whatever reason there was to apologize for, kept on apologizing for being a pussy (hope that doesn’t land me in sensitivity training since I said it to HR) and got an icepack to keep the swelling down.  Hitting your head SUCKS; I’ve wiped on my tookus several times but never have I fallen like that before.  Boo to wet concrete.  Boo to the knot on my head.  Boo to the new contusion I discovered on my back this morning.  Boo to my stiff neck from sleeping in the most awkward position to keep the icepack on my head.  Boo to me acting retarded and asking the hubs if I was going to die (true story).  Boo to the Bats for losing after the fact. 

So I feel the need to apologize for making a ruckus and whimpering and being a buzz-kill.  I’m truly sorry that I’m a pussy.  (But hey, I’m girl, I’m allowed to cry when I have the knot the size of Minnesota on my head.)  Thank you EMT Lloyd for letting me hold on to your shirt while I caught my balance.  Thank you EMS lady who wasn’t wearing a name tag that gave me an icepack.  And thank you Captain in the EMS station for making me laugh and telling me to hang out with you instead of my friends. 

And if you haven’t figured it out yet, I don’t think I’ll ever go to a Bats game when it’s raining ever again.  Me and wet concrete are NOT friends.

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~ by shutterboo on July 31, 2009.

One Response to “Not a Fan of Wet Concrete”

  1. All this and no mention of the 8000 phone calls i got asking my professional medical advice? I’m hurt 😦

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