Rock Star - Not!

I have determined that I shall never be a Rock Star.  For two main reasons, the first being I cannot sing, the second and more important reason is that I cannot walk down a flight of stairs and look up (out into the crowd or up into the sky) at the same time, as I surely will plummet to my death.  And according to concerts, half times, and videos, it seems that Rock Stars maneuver stairs quite often. This also leads me to believe that I can never be Royalty, as they walk down stairs, smiling and waving on many occasions. 

On a side note, if you ever want to experience an hour’s cardio exercise in mere seconds, simply feel as though you are about to plunge to your death down a flight of stairs.  Trust me on this one, let me explain.

I came to this determination one evening while exiting work.  As we all know I can do very little and walk at the same time.  Basically talking and walking is the top of the abilities for me (and some of you can argue with that).  To exit our building (we are on the second floor) one must descend a flight of stairs.  The most common used staircase is the emergency exit in the back of the office.  Those metal, open air steps held to the wall by what appears to be one huge bolt, but slant slightly away from the building giving one just enough of an uneasy feeling to make one cling to the rusty banister with a vice grip. 

While exiting one evening I was drawn to look at the skies as a massive amount of crows were flying overhead (come to find out they were roosting down the road much to the chagrin of the university) and I had that moment of awe due to their numbers and worry that I would get pooped on.  Whilst looking up I miss a step and…you know that falling feeling you have in your dreams when you have jumped a cliff and are about to hit the ground…I had that feeling.  

I was about to die.  “Here I come Lord!” was the thought screaming in my head as I saw (what I thought) was the ground racing toward me. My vivid imagination pictured me bouncing down each step, imprinting the cross-hatched pattern to all exposed skin, scrapping away the newly cross-hatched branded skin leaving it smeared across the rusted metal, infecting me with Tetanus, snapping my spine and subsequently landing on my neck with immediate death.  

In fact, I only half missed the step, my foot slid down to the next step causing my other leg to buckle and I was actually about to sit down hard on the stairs.  My hand never left the banister, my other hand shot out and clung to the brick wall tossing my purse and tote bag up into the air slinging it around my arm like a lasso, then smacking me up side my head.  My butt stopped mere inches from the steps; I was left in a kind of crab, crouching tiger, hidden dragon, spider pose and my heart, while racing, was in my throat, as was my lunch. 

This is why I say I shall never be a Rock Star, and I am fine with that if it means I never have to do anything but simply walk down stairs. 

Watch where you are walking,

M.L.