Walking Tall

Pride comes before a fall - how many times have I heard that? While I'm not trying to debunk the words of the Hebrews or the rock band Sweet, sometimes there are other forces, like gravity, that come into play.

While it would be easy to say I was a deep thinker as a child and unaware of my surroundings, the truth is, I was plain old clumsy. Slipping, tripping and falling helped me decorate my early life in shades of black and blue.

When the gang would be riding bikes down a hill or over a ramp, I'd be the one that ended up going over the handlebars; when we were pushing each other into the deep end of the pool, I was the one who instead of hitting the water, hit my front teeth on the cement border surrounding it. I could go on but let's just say steady as he goes is not how anyone would have described me.

It was fun for a while using the old "I fell off the swing" defense when someone asked what had happened to me but when the social workers started showing up, I knew I needed a new tack.

I decided to make an effort to think before I walked, ran, leapt or dove. It worked to an extent except when I forgot myself and did something boneheaded like running out from between parked cars.

I'm forever indebted to Pong for helping me achieve a little better hand eye coordination but I still have to think about the simplest motor movements to keep myself from ending up splayed across the universe.

On my way down the stairs from the train to the concourse on my way to work, I always step carefully knowing well that one false move could start a chain reaction injuring dozens. A few days ago, I'd just I started my in-head mantra (left, right, left, right) when the man ahead of me lost his footing and slipped down three stairs. He nearly took out the girl in front of him eliciting gasps and are you alrights from the people around him.

Me? I had to quell the urge to burst out laughing. I mean really, is there anything funnier than hands and arms flailing like that? Loser.