When it rains in Rio de Janeiro, the streets have a tendency to flood. Actually, that is a bit of an understatement. When it rains in Rio de Janeiro corners of intersections fill with rain water, quickly flooding the already poorly managed sewer system. That is when the sewer system overflows, adding even more water to the flooded area. Oh, did I say water, I meant human waste. My bad.
That is exactly why I decided to bust out my old boots on Monday. I had dropped the boys off at school earlier in the day only to come home wet with God knows what up to my mid-calf. If it were just water, I wouldn’t have cared. Hell, I am a huge fan of puddle jumping. The issue here is what I mentioned above. It feels like you could practically puddle jump yourself into Cholera.
Back to the boots though, my rainboots had finally cracked so the only remaining boots were my old cute work boots, with a decent heel, from my pre-kid US days. I knew heels plus rain wasn’t necessarily a good combination for me, but I went for it anyway. At this point in my life, I can be seriously uncoordinated in heels, but poop filled puddles made me ignore that fact.
I picked up kid one from his classroom and headed down the hall to get kid two. I was moving quickly to keep up with kid one, so much so that I wasn’t paying attention to where I was stepping. I should have been keeping one eye out for puddles on the floor.
I was practically there when I realized my feet were in the air. Seriously, it was as if time paused for that one second and I thought ‘This is not going to end well.’
Then I totally ate shit, in the middle of the hallway, at my kids’ school. At least I was a little late picking up the kids so the hallway was fairly empty. If it had been peak pickup time, I would have taken out at least a couple of kids. Trust me, I am a long girl, throw me in the air in a crowded area and a couple of people are going to go down with me.
I jumped to my feet a split second after touching ground and quickly moved to get kid two. I thought for a moment that maybe my fall would just pass without any acknowledgement. I thought wrong. I was turning away from the classroom with both kids in tow when one of the adult hall monitors ran up to me.
“Are you ok?! ARE YOU OK?!”
Oh crap. I tried to brush her off and said I was fine but now a group was forming.
“What happened?!” asked one teacher.
“She fell really hard!” Said the hall monitor.
Awesome. I assured the new spectators that I was indeed fine. The truth is that I am more than familiar with the art of eating shit. I then attempted to keep moving away and towards the door. Of course they followed.
“But this was a bad fall! Are you sure you are ok? You should go see the school nurse!”
Now I appreciated the care and concern, but unless I could apply the nurse’s homemade ice pack to my ego, it really wasn’t necessary.
I finally got away and we made it home without incidence. My feet remained dry and free of fecal matter, though I am not sure if it was really worth the trade.
In unrelated news, I’m giving away a pair of black boots…