Thursday, June 22, 2006
Blame it on the moon (or Blood and Soup)

I should have known that when my car didn't start this morning I was in store for a bad day. Things were reasonably smooth most of the morning. Even my job interview in the afternoon went well compared to what was to follow. I started off the day presentable and neat and I ended the day on the train covered in pumpkin soup, red wine and fluoro orange bandaids.

I blame it on winter solstice.

I arrived at my market tonight, a friend from school in tow. I had discovered her in the library. Another guy from school also turned up. A little later a very good friend came and we exclaimed about the bizzareness that my intervew had been for a job at the company she works for, and I hadn't even realised. She left, and another very good friend arrived unexpectedly.

It was then that I decided to trip myself up, fall, regain composure, and then fall again to slide spectacuarly across a nearby table, knocking beers down like bowling pins. The entire bar moved its collective gaze to my upturned self, and the only sound was the background music, the clinking of ice cubes in glasses, and my friends' hysterical laughter as I apologised profusely to several businessmen for spilling their drinks.

Several hours later I had gotten over that spill and the crowd had recycled itself*. It was then, while carrying a bowl of soup from the bar that was to be my dinner, that I stepped in a slight ditch and took a second, even more spectacular tumble. Pumpkin soup was airborne, scalding one of the other market girls, splashing two friends, and covering me. I stood, bewildered, and again began apologising profusely, my hands, legs, arms, face and jacket dripping with soup. It's amazing that there was more to cover anyone else.

I just stood, unsteady and flustered, the entire bar once again focussing collective attention on me. The market guy who calls me love pointed out I was bleeding, and in the most calm voice I have ever heard in my life escorted me first to the bar for antiseptic, and then to the bathroom to wash off the mingling blood and soup. The bar tender and security guard tended to me with bandaids and I regained enough control over myself to clean as much of the soup up as possible. Meanwhile, the market girl and her friends were in the next toilet cleaning themselves up, laughing rather hysterically.

After that I felt like I used to feel when I drank caffeine. The way I'd feel before a music performance at TAFE, when my nerves were at a high and the caffeine had made them even higher. I was shaky and unsteady, and felt like every time I moved I would wind up sprawled on the floor, covered in broken glass. Now I am feeling better. I think. I'm not quite sure. Being at home makes me feel much safer, because I know that if I fall over it'll be on familiar ground.

* the old crowd had left, and a new crowd had arrived to fill the gap
posted by Erica 6/22/2006 12:06:00 AM
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