Wednesday, September 17, 2008

Labor Day

On Labor Day Weekend, Jube and I had set up a busy schedule: Planet Arlington World Music Festival on Saturday, Picnic on the Mall on Sunday, family barbecue on Monday. Only Saturday and Monday succeeded, and all because I am a big idiot.

We were on the Metro, heading to Capitol South, when Jube realized that we were going the wrong way. We got out and started heading toward the escalators that connect the two directions. As we started up the moving stairs, Jube heard the train arriving on the other side.

"Hurry!" he told me, "We can still catch it!"

I had my doubts, but I still ran up the escalator. Or at least, I tried to run up. My flip flop caught one of the steps and I fell heavily on my left leg, bruising my knee and scraping my ankle. Because I am a cruel person and I wanted Jube to hurt as much as I did, I snapped, "Why did you make me run?" Tears had sprung to my eyes and I limped off of the escalator. It really really hurt! I've never felt as much pain in my life (well, maybe I have, but I certainly don't remember it feeling that bad!).

As I rode the other side's escalator down, I felt moisture on my leg. I looked at it and saw blood trickling past the bottom of my cropped pants. Strangely, I hadn't noticed any cuts, just a feeling of bruising around my knee. When I pulled up my pants leg, I almost fainted. Blood caked my knee and continued down my leg. In my bag, I had nothing to staunch the flow; no napkins, not even any receipts.

I started feeling nauseated and faint, so I sent Jube back up the killer escalator to find a station manager while I sat on the floor next to one of the concrete barriers, whimpering to myself and swabbing at the blood with my now-stained pants. Jube couldn't find any help, so we decided to head home. (For some reason, I'd thought that I could still make it to the picnic if only the station manager had been there with a first aid kit!) Of course, by this time we were about half an hour away from home and I would have to limp through the Labor Day Weekend crowds with a bloody pair of pants, but we couldn't help that.

I managed to keep from puking or fainting until we got home, where I cleaned up my wound and gently placed myself on the sofa. And then, since we had managed to miss our vegan picnic gathering, I turned to my husband and moaned, "Jube... could you get me a big hamburger from Wendy's please?"

I think I deserved it.

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