It finally happened. See, this whole time I've been secretly laughing to myself as it happens to everyone else. Some get about two "Beat It" moves in before hitting the ground, others simply have their feet float above their heads before landing not so smoothly on the incredibly hard ice. I couldn't explain why it had never happened to me, i thought maybe I had developed a POSE method of walking that was conducive to good balance. Maybe god just loves me more, always a possibility. Then it happened. I'm walking in front of an MRAP that's waiting for me to get out of his way, there's a good three or four other soldiers kind of looking at me like they know they're about to get a show. Next thing I know my right foot is up in the air, my arms are flailing like a retarded bird and luckily (not really) my tailbone was there to break my fall. God doesn't love me more. The world stopped spinning for a minute as I sat there thinking of all the good things that could come from suck starting a 9 mm. Then, as the pain and embarrassment begin to subside I find courage, and taking a page from the Chumbawamba book, I get up again.
Note: This is an anecdote of inspiration and heroism in Afghanistan.
No comments:
Post a Comment