In Other News, Emily Is An Idiot.
The balcony of my dorm room provides me with a delightfully urban, beat-poetry-inspiring view of the shared back parking lot of a pawn shop, and a certain establishment known rather redundantly as the Chinese Mandarin Buffet. Across the street from this prime real estate is a Chevron gas station. A strip of lawn separates my hall from a chain link fence put in place to keep us from mingling with the patrons of the Chinese joint.
And thus, the scene was set.
This evening I decided to pop over to the Chevron with my roommate for a pack of cigarettes. I don't smoke very often, but it felt like a lazy evening, best spent standing on the balcony, watching the trains go by. This sort of enterprise requires a cigarette.
We walked a hundred yards to where the fence ended, and cut across the huge parking lot, crossed the street, bought what we needed at the gas station, and started back. My roommate headed for the gap in the fence, but noooo, I said, that would take "fucking forever" and we should just jump the fence, because "It's not even that high, seriously."
Hubris, my friends. Such hubris.
My roommate clambered over. I followed. I perched on the top of the fence, broken links digging into my ass, while I looked down at the sidewalk, trying to find a likely place to land.
Here's the part where I should say that I leapt into the air, soaring like a great condor with the spirit of God in its wings, landing safely on the ground.
Here's what actually happened.
Chain Link Fence: "I'M ON UR CAMPUS, POKING UR BUTT."
Me: "Fuck this shit!" *jumps*
Ground: *rushes up to meet me*
My Left Ankle: *crack*
No joke. I think my heel is fractured. My fucking heel. Who hurts their heel? That's, like, the most illegitimate injury ever. I've been hobbling around my room for hours now, with white spots flashing behind my eyes every time I put weight on it. Fun. And guess who has to walk three miles to the other end of campus tomorrow?
This is why smoking is bad, kids.
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And thus, the scene was set.
This evening I decided to pop over to the Chevron with my roommate for a pack of cigarettes. I don't smoke very often, but it felt like a lazy evening, best spent standing on the balcony, watching the trains go by. This sort of enterprise requires a cigarette.
We walked a hundred yards to where the fence ended, and cut across the huge parking lot, crossed the street, bought what we needed at the gas station, and started back. My roommate headed for the gap in the fence, but noooo, I said, that would take "fucking forever" and we should just jump the fence, because "It's not even that high, seriously."
Hubris, my friends. Such hubris.
My roommate clambered over. I followed. I perched on the top of the fence, broken links digging into my ass, while I looked down at the sidewalk, trying to find a likely place to land.
Here's the part where I should say that I leapt into the air, soaring like a great condor with the spirit of God in its wings, landing safely on the ground.
Here's what actually happened.
Chain Link Fence: "I'M ON UR CAMPUS, POKING UR BUTT."
Me: "Fuck this shit!" *jumps*
Ground: *rushes up to meet me*
My Left Ankle: *crack*
No joke. I think my heel is fractured. My fucking heel. Who hurts their heel? That's, like, the most illegitimate injury ever. I've been hobbling around my room for hours now, with white spots flashing behind my eyes every time I put weight on it. Fun. And guess who has to walk three miles to the other end of campus tomorrow?
This is why smoking is bad, kids.
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