I was about three months into my 21st birthday celebration (yes, I celebrated my 21st birthday for months... sue me). Anyway, I was at a bar in my home town, it was far past last call and the guy I was dating at the time was corralling my best friend and I out of the bar. He naturally (as boyfriends tend to do) made me angry, the reason still a pending mystery. Now, I inherit my smile and charm from my mother and my wit and short fuse from my father. Unfortunately, this night, my short fuse came out to play.
This bar has a big stairwell out in it's lobby, boyfriend was all the way at the bottom, and best friend was in between. As my short fuse and I stood pouting at the top, one of us, I blame my short fuse, got extra angry because we were being rushed. I chucked my wristlet (an expensive one that happens to belong to my mother) straight at best friend. Now, before I continue on with my story, let me explain something...
I had lost my license a week before this event, and had to pathetically use my passport and military dependent i.d. card to get into the bars (classy huh?). The passport; for all of you well traveled readers, you know passports are neither cheap nor easily obtainable. The military dependent i.d. card; well, this isn't expensive, but the very morning of this incident, my mother had to drive my license-less self to get said i.d. card, forty minutes to the air force base where she works and forty minutes back, then spend the rest of the day tackling work. Guilt trip ensues.
So, this expensive wristlet that doesn't belong to me, containing not only the aforementioned passport and military dependent i.d. card, but a cell phone, house keys, credit cards and virtually the rest of my dignity was sailing through the air. Sir Isaac Newton told us in elementary school, that which goes up, must also come down. My wristlet went up... and then it came down, way down.
This bar is two floors up, and along the railing of the stairs there's about a four inch gap between railing and wall, leading an eight foot drop to absolutely nothing. Screw the other one hundred plus square feet, my wristlet wanted to land right in that gap.
To add insult to injury, best friend was dying laughing, and boyfriend was ashamed. Did I fail to mention that this bar also happens to be in the mall I worked in at the time? Lose.
The bouncer who saw the entire incident unfold was very helpful and called security for me. Boyfriend was nice and took me home and the wonderful security guards retrieved my wristlet within an hour. Karma, being the charming and forgiving woman that she is (insert sarcasm here), let me run into the lovely gentleman that retrieved my wristlet out of the deep pits of the stair well the next day before my shift at work when I went to claim the flying wristlet from security. He left me with these words, "next time, maybe you should take the elevator".
Thanks a lot, Newton.
Been There, Done That. Now, has anyone gotten stupidly mad a paid for it immediately? Let's see if you've been there...
Been there, done that. Although I doubt that I will be as eloquent as you have been, I think it would be fun to add to your collection. You see, I too am 21 years old and inherit a laundry list of admirable qualities from my precious parents. Not too unlike your short fuse, I have inherited my father's outrageous sarcasm and ability to say just about the worst thing at the worst moment. This, coupled with your said "mad moment" led me into a downward spiral during a very important, very career-driving class. Without, once again, having to bite my tongue, lets just say that I did not agree with "doctor so-and-so" and often shared those feelings with my classmates, harmlessly trying to be funny, but still packing a mean punch. After a long, long class, and once again a scant idea of the material, I took a break to the vending machine with a classmate and said something along the lines of "doctor so-and-so has done it again, somehow managing to waste an hour and a half of my life and the lives of 150 others". Of course, you see where this is going and probably can predict what was said next. I, on the other hand was suprised to hear "good luck on your exam Thursday..." No, to my dismay that was not my fellow classmate. Fear struck me as I saw that indeed, it was my professor, donning a very familiar sarcastic smile, that I have often given myself. Fail. Not just at that moment, but on that exam.
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