Staying on Brand

Remember how in my last post I was all, "We are all connected and brought together by our community 7-Elevens and our shared need for Twinkies blah-de-blah-de-fucking-blah?"

Well. That was before Monday.

Because Monday I made such a scene that I considered never going back to my 7-Eleven. I had refilled my soda. It was my seventh, so my app gave it to me for free and I the cashier made a dumb joke about me owing him $10 and I made a dumb joke about, "I am giving you nothing!" and there were eight hundred people in line and I went to leave the store and tripped on a tiny ripple in their rug and went straight down, face-first, fully stretched out, half-in and half-out of the 7-Eleven.

I mean, thank God someone was holding the door for me so I didn't go through the glass with my face, but still.

There were gasps. Of course there were gasps. The man holding the door for me was agape. I registered four things immediately:

1. My soda was EVERYWHERE.

2. All the fingernails on my right hand were broken.

3. I was pretty sure my phone was smashed to smithereens.

4. Ouch.

I think the door holder asked me if I was okay and, me being me, I immediately insisted I was fine before I'd even assessed anything other than my fingernails, had a vague realization that my phone had exploded, and felt a dull throbbing from my knee.

"You're going to need a refill," the door holder said.

I pried myself off the ground, picked up my phone and now empty cup, and turned around to see about 12 people who looked exactly like this:

EXACTLY like this.

All I really wanted to do was leave, but the crowd was now filled with two different factions: (a) those that wanted me to refill my Big Gulp ("get a whole new cup," said the cashier), and (b) those who were going to figure out exactly which ripple in the carpet had tripped me.

I did some muttering and refilled my cup with soda I really no longer fucking wanted and left for my car as fast as possible. Some kind soul had already balled up the carpet and put it to the side of the door, so fortunately I didn't meet the ground again.

I'm okay. Weirdly, my right tricep was sore for two full days, but it seems fine now. My knee, which is already a nightmare, seems to be no worse for the wear. The offending carpet is back in front of the 7-Eleven door (I went back the next day in the morning instead of the afternoon, when a different staff was on duty.)

My phone, however, didn't make it.

I enjoyed the glass splinters it gave me.

That photo is with the phone on. The touch screen, weirdly, no longer works. I suppose that's what happens when you hurl it to the concrete. The alarm, however, did continue to work until this morning, which I know because I got to listen to it from 6 to 8am on Tuesday and Wednesday because there was NO WAY TO TURN IT OFF.

No, I don't plan on suing, because then where would I get my soda, huh? Did you think about that? That said, I will be high-stepping it out of the entrance from now on because I've learned my lesson about trusting the ground.

(That lesson? Don't. Don't trust the ground.)

Other than the weird satisfaction I get from embarrassing myself in public and then embarrassing myself again by telling everyone about it, I am posting this to assure you all that if you thought Stimeyland 2 was going to be different than the original, rest assured, I will be staying on brand.*


*Brand: Clumsy doofus with a foul mouth and a propensity to cause scenes.