Some say it was an evolution of sorts.
Others tell me it was cascade-like.
Many describe it as a pirouette.
All 100 guests gasped when they saw it. The fall that went on forever. And ever. The fall of Olympic proportions.
And then someone from the concerned crowd cried out, "Liz Wilkey just fell!"
Another quipped, "Liz Wilkey???? Did you say Liz Wilkey?"
As if there were any doubt as to exactly who it was that stepped off that step into nothing but thin air, the woman who had somehow turned and landed on her feet and then stepped backwards over and over again trying desperately to catch herself and regain her balance - a gymnast who didn't quite stick the landing.
And then? Then she turned into that unfortunate ice skater who practices day and night for the big competition; attempting to do the quadruple Salchow, and somehow is short on her rotation and ends up falling flat on her butt in front of thousands of people.
Olympic proportions.
If course there weren't thousands who saw me fall as we were waiting for the valet service to bring our car after the event with 1250 attendees. No, I'd estimate that gasp came from about 100 collective mouths. But ice skaters don't have the additional humiliation of the competitor's husband running over and screaming, "Nobody move her!" at the exact moment that the parking attendant drives up and yells, "Black Nissan Rogue!"
Nobody move her?
I don't know who you think you're married to buddy, but I moving alright. My car. Just get me into my car! Away from these faces, these eyes, these people! I want my black Nissan Rogue! But first I want a bag to put over my head as you raise me up and walk me over there.
Oh, the humiliation!
(For all who care. . . you can read the story behind the story here.)
