As editor of Scroll’s arts and entertainment section, I should probably be well rounded in both arts and entertainment. I feel qualified in the entertainment department, as I am a walking source of entertainment. Most everyone has probably witnessed an embarrassing moment of mine. Keep an eye out for me; you’ll probably see me do something that will keep you laughing throughout the day.
However, a friend recently informed me of an art form that I am not well educated in: the art of walking on ice, sposedly, “a form of art that people from warm places, such as California, don’t really have.”
If you know me, you know I can’t argue with this statement.
A few weeks ago I fell, nothing new. I was walking to campus with pen and notebook in hand and before I knew it my legs flew out in front of me and I hit the ice, hard.
I quickly scrambled for my pen and notebook before jumping to my feet. I took one step and déjà vu.
It was horribly embarrassing, especially since I was in front of a big tinted store window where I couldn’t tell if anyone had seen me. And did I forget to mention that the only car on the road drove by at that exact moment? Aside from a bruised ego, I suffered a painful, bruised tailbone.
I’ve experienced it all: the slips, the trips, the duck legs and the falls (both forwards and backwards, the graceful and the ungraceful, between the parked cars and in the crosswalks).
One time, I thought I would be smart and avoid falling by walking around a particular ice patch. So I stepped into the snow just to the side of the ice, only to find my curled hair had gotten tangled in a tree branch that I had failed to see. I tried to pull my hair out but it wouldn’t budge. And of course, I looked to see a member of the opposite sex walking towards me.
My survival instincts kicked in; I had to get out of that situation fast. So I yanked my hair out and avoided eye contact, probably leaving several strands of hair in the tree.
This would happen to me. This is my third winter in Rexburg. I should be an expert at walking on the ice, but I’m not. I have to relearn every year. It’s not in my innate nature to glide along the ice.
I guess it’s because I’m from California.