Falling slowly, eyes that know me

Falling is one of those things in life that you hear grandmas talking about in their sewing circles. A broken hip here, a knee replacement there. But I have apparently begun this phase in my life much earlier than the average person.

In Santander, we stayed in a very classy hotel, where the hotel restaurant employees wear tuxedos and serve everything on silver platters. So eating in the hotel restaurant we were required to dress up. I was all decked out in a dress and heels, something I'm not totally accustomed to, but I'm trying to get more use to. As I was leaving the dining room, I somehow managed to let my heel slip on the finely polished wooden floors. As I tried to regain my balance, I continued to take more steps, as my body made its way closer and closer to the ground. So for about 8 feet, I was stumbling/attempting to regain my balance, all the while slipping more and more. I must have taken at least 5 more steps in the process of trying to stand back up. But at last, gravity won, and my left knee took a great fall. As I finally hit the ground, the waiter in his penguin suit ran over to help me up, but I just crumpled to the ground once again.

Here is actual footage of the event:

In a fit of confusion, pain, and embarrassment, I entered laugh/cry mode. The same type of laugh/cry I experience when I don't know if I'm actually hurt, or if I'm just in shock from the previous five seconds of embarrassment. The same type of laugh/cry I did when I tore every tendon and ligament in my ankle, and my friends thought I was just laughing. I still didn't know if my ACL was intact at this point, because I couldn't gather myself enough to acknowledge what was real pain and what was embarrassment.

The guys from our group ran over and helped me into a chair, the waiter ran and got a bag of ice, and in Spanish he was giving me directions to the hotel's doctor. All the while, the other restaurant guests are trying to enjoy a quiet meal. Needless to say, I spent the rest of the night with a bag of ice on my knee in bed, while everyone went out.

The following morning at breakfast, evidence remained from my great fall. My shoes left a giant black mark on the hardwood floors that spanned the entire 8 feet of my fall. At least I left my mark on Spain in one way or another.