There was a heavy rainstorm this afternoon. It came in swiftly and lasted for about 2 hours. I was in the open air upstairs classroom getting to the end (a second time) of The Cider House Rules. The corrugated tin roof roared as the rain pelted it, and it was very calming. Other people were out on their balconies looing at the spectacle too. It reminded me of Summer thunderstorms in Dallas, though less violent. S. Came upstairs and we splashed around in the water and did our weird voice and potty mouth routine for a while. I made some joke about the drainage spout in the floor and how it looked like the building had a little pecker. I didn’t know that the building would get me back for my causual remark.
I took my first step on the stair and “woop” my first foot slid right off pulling the rest of my body with it.
“I appear to be sliding down stairs,” I thought to myself. I wasn’t too worried as I was only wacking my legs, back, and ass with the regularity of a washboard.
“Certainly I can’t slide down the whole flight of stairs. That kind of stunt only happens in the movies.” But when I had passed about 10 steps, I realized that I wasn’t stopping so I reached out to stop myself. I looked up the stairs at S. with a look of resignation; I couldn’t stop. I slid and bumped down the rest of the way, slowly turning more sideways. So by the last few steps, I slowly flopped off like a huge loaf of bread. I wasn’t really hurt, just a few scratches and some abrasion on my arm. And the whole thing was so weird I started laughing and S. continued laughing, and the kids starting crowding around me and the cook instantly applied balm to my wounds, and everybody seemed concerned, and my dry clean pants were wet again, and I was just a little bit more humble.