The Latte Show

Note:  Read "Legends of My Falls," "Snow White Falling on Cedar," "Down, Down and Away" and "The Accidental Tourist" before reading this post.

There is an expression, "No use crying over spilled milk." I would cry over a spilled latte. That's why I look back on one of my memorable falls with a certain amount of pride. Though I had a latte in each hand and ended up flat on my face in a busy parking lot, the lattes remained upright in my hands and not one drop of them of was spilled. How is that for finesse? (I can hear my husband replying, "How's that for STUPIDITY???)

It was for my husband I was bringing one of those lattes. The other, of course, was for me. And now that I think of it, it is kind of ironic, because I was bringing him a daily latte after he had spinal surgery! He had ruptured a disc on a business trip to Italy the previous October. He had to jump off a boat onto a dock at an awkward angle, and he was carrying his briefcase in one hand and his laptop computer in the other. When he landed he could feel something 'give,' and pain in his hip and down his leg was immediate. It grew with each passing day and week until he came home. When I saw him at the airport I knew something was drastically wrong. His journey from there until his spinal surgery the following February makes for an interesting story, but this story isn't about him, it's about me.

Prior to his surgery my husband was off work and confined to either the bed or the recliner loveseat in our family room. He was in excruciating pain that was only partially helped by drugs. His daily latte was his treat, and I picked the lattes up at the only coffee shop in town at the time, Olympic Coffee. This one fine morning I had the lattes in hand, went out the door and headed for my car in the parking lot as I always did. I'm not sure why on this day I didn't see the difference between the drop-off from the sidewalk and the ramp right in front used for deliveries and probably wheelchairs. I breezed out of the shop, across the sidewalk, put my left foot on the ramp and expected my right foot to land at the same level of concrete. But there was that drop-off, and that threw me off---off my feet, that is. I totally lost my balance and fell forward.

If I hadn't had the lattes in my hands I would have been able to break my fall with my hands. Instead, my hands stayed wrapped around those latte cups. It all happened so fast, I suddenly found myself up close and personal with the parking lot concrete. This all happened within full view of other customers sitting at the bar along the windows. Two nice young men saw my plight from inside Olympic Coffee and rushed out the door to assist me.

Them:               Are you alright?
Me:                   I'm fine, I'm just embarrassed.
Them:               That's okay, we're never going to see you again.
Me:                   Okay then, my name is Sally. Good to meet you.

Don't get excited, I didn't make a blog faux pas. Sally is not my real name. That's the point. It was all a joke. They laughed because they knew my name wasn't really Sally. They helped me up and helped me to my car. They left, and I got inside. And I cried.

The year was 1996. My husband's spinal surgery was a big success, thank God. No surgery for me, but I hurt something in there that day. Not to mention Sally's self-esteem.