Watch Out For That--

A Public Service Announcement

Manholes. They're more dangerous than you think. Sitting in the middle of the road or sidewalk, they wait for unsuspecting victims to engulf with their ready, wide mouths. They are an unlikely predator, an unmatched terror in a world full of evils. No one is safe.

I can be the first to tell you that these attacks come swiftly and without warning. One spring day, the sun shining in the bright, azure sky, and the verdant grass blowing in the wind, I had been strolling alone, minding my own business and listening to my iPod. I had finally broken out the capris and the flip flips, and was enjoying the refreshing warm weather after a long, cold winter. It had rained the night before, creating large puddles in the unleveled dips in the concrete.

Since I was wearing flip flops, I tried my hardest to avoid stepping directly into any of the scummy rain puddles. I hated the way my feet slid against the rubber soles of my flip flops when they were wet, and I was determined to keep that from happening today--no matter what.

And then I stood before an incredibly large puddle. It was too big for me to leap over, and it took up the entire width of the sidewalk. My only option was to go around it.

The portion of the lawn this puddle sat in front of just happened to have a manhole along the edge, slanted in a tiny incline from the ground. A convenient set up, no doubt. I took a deep breath and placed my foot on the cover, having done this numerous times before with no problems, and slowly began to shift my weight over to that foot. So far so good.

But as I began to lean forward and continue on my way, something went horribly awry. Within seconds, the cover of the manhole had opened up, and down I went. It all happened so quickly. The fact that I had fallen hadn't even registered in the first few seconds. It wasn't until I looked down to see my left leg dangling in the open hole, my arms on the sides holding me up, as my right leg remained outside the hole.

It didn't hurt that much at first, but my left leg had been scratched slightly from the fall. Not to mention any semblance of self-confidence I once had was now sitting at the muddy bottom of the hole. My first thought, however, wasn't "Ouch" or a swarm of curse words. No, surprisingly, as I looked down at my swinging leg, mud caked on my calf and my pants, what first came to my mind was,

'I just washed these pants!'

'Ouch' wasmy second thought.

Slowly pushing myself out of the hole, I checked to make sure that I had everything. Limbs? Check. Purse? Check. iPod? Check. And thank God for that. If I had looked down to see my iPod in the mud, I would have dove in right after it, no doubt.

Sighing, I tried to wipe all the mud I can from myself before looking at the open hole and the cover sitting next to it.

'Great,' I thought, 'how am I going to move this back on?'

As if on cue, a rather attractive male, around my age, crossed the street to where I was standing. He approached me cautiously, probably never having seen a girl fall in a manhole before. But I couldn't really blame him, I guess.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

"Yeah." I answered quietly. 'Just my pride is wounded.' I thought to myself.

"That looked painful," he said.

I nodded, thinking to myself, 'And your entrance into this scene has officially made this moment in my life the next teen blockbuster.'

The boy knelt down to move the cover back over the hole. "That's strange that it just came off like that."

"Yeah," I replied, bending down to help him move to cover. I could hardly move it, and I am surprised by the fact that it is so heavy, especially since I had no trouble moving it off before. I made a mental note to do 100 crunches as soon as I got back home.

"Oh don't worry, I can get that."

'If you insist.' I thought, standing up. I made an effort to wipe more mud off as the boy moved the cover back over the hole. "Thanks," I said.

"No problem," he replied, standing up and wiping mud off his hands. "Are you going to be alright?"

"Yeah, thanks."

The boy nods and awkwardly walks back to his car across the street. I imagined him with his friends later that evening, laughing as he told the story of the girl who actually fell in an actual manhole. Go figure.

I turned around and made my way, with a slight limp, back home. I was torn between crying and laughing. It was a scary experience, dangling in that hole, not sure of how I got there. But then again, who falls in a manhole? Rather, how does someone who isn't a Looney Tunes Character fall into a manhole? The entire circumstance seemed unreal, and I took the time on my walk back home to reflect on it.

Winter had been a rough time for me, and I had attributed that mostly to the cold weather. Once the sun had started peeking out of the clouds more, and the days had started getting longer and warmer, I had noticed a sunnier, brighter attitude in myself. There were still some rough days, but for the most part, things seemed to be looking up. I had taken my walk to clear my mind and to meditate. It just goes to show that one minute you can be standing, having just pulled yourself up out of a funk, and out of nowhere you're dangling in a hole in the ground. Life was funny that way. I spent the rest of the night inside, and ever since that incident, I have always gone out of way to avoid manholes, even if it does mean earning some concerned glances in the process.

Bird Watch

It's a bleak day, and the weather is strange for this time of the year, even in Nebraska. The sky is an awful grey color, and it's easily below 60 degrees with the slight wind and drizzle occurring outside. It's a stark difference from the 80 degree weather we had just a few days ago. I’m in my friend Jen's apartment, watching her two month old son, Jacob, for the day. After wandering around a bit while Jacob sleeps in his car seat on the bed in his parents' room, I walk back to the bedroom and stand in the doorway.

As I’m scanning the room, Jacob still sleeping soundly, I hear a rustle of noise behind me. I turn quickly, and examine my surroundings. There is a vent above the door; perhaps it was one of those noisy vents that occasionally make peculiar noises or just simply noisy neighbors. I make a mental note to look for a broom, should I be prompted to emulate the little old lady that no apartment dweller wanted to reside above.

I pivot on my foot, leaning backwards slightly and look up only to discover what had really made the noise. On top of the door sat a small, green, love bird. I was definitely not expecting that. I slowly back away from the bird, which stared down at me with its black, beady eyes, and stood in front of Jacob, whom, conveniently, was still sleeping. There was no telling what this bird was capable of, considering that it had appeared, literally, out of nowhere. I had no idea that Jen had a bird. Chuckling at my luck, or lack thereof, I shake my head and think, "Really? Of all the things to go wrong today and you give me a bird?"

Bending over slightly, so as not to give the bird any incentive to attack for making sudden movements, I pick up my phone, dial Jen's number, and press the phone to my ear.

"Hello?" she answers.

"Hi...it's Kate. Doyouguyshaveabird?" I say the last part as quietly and as rushed as I can, still in complete disbelief of the current predicament.

"He got out? Crap! Alright, well, Rick will have to come put her back in her cage. Is she bothering you?"

"Psh. No…no...not at all. Not yet," I reply.

"Alright, well, Rick should be there in just a minute."

"...OK. Bye."

I close my phone and wait. Again, I chuckle. I was being held hostage by a freaking love bird. Go figure. I sit on the edge of the bed, smoothing down the white duvet cover before picking up my book. I kept a sharp eye on the bird, however, just in case it made any move for the infant. Just when I wasn't looking however, I heard the rustle and bustle of wings flapping, and felt a soft tapping on my head as it flew above me.

'It just came at me!' I shout to no one in particular. Jacob stirred in his sleep, but after a smack of the lips, he fell back into his slumber. The two of us made quite the team.

I look up to see the bird clasping to the curtains with its menacing claws. It’s watching me. I’m watching it. Neither of us is moving. I turn my focus to my book occasionally, still glancing up to make sure the bird was hanging on the curtain.

For the next few minutes, every time I hear the flutter of wings, I lift my book and hide beneath it, prepared to swing at the damn winged creature if it came too close to the sleeping baby. I feel trapped. Still, Jacob sleeps peacefully in his car seat, his tiny chest rising and falling with each breath, as he remains unfazed by the war waging around him.

I make plans to take Jacob into his room next door and close the door before the bird can follow us in. We'd be safe there. Before I can make any moves, however, the bird flies from the curtain back to perch on the bedroom door. He knows I'm trying to run. He chirps loudly, a war cry. He is making sure we don't leave, not for anything.

I glare at the door, thinking bitterly, "Birds. They think they're so high and mighty with their wings. 'Ooh, look at me, look at me, I can fly!' Big whoop, I am not impressed, far from it."

I keep my hand on my hard covered book; as if to send a message to the bird saying, "Wanna try me?"

So we sit like that until we hear the jingle of keys. Rick has arrived to save me. And Jacob, of course. Walking into the room, we, or rather, I must have been quite the sight, sitting next to Jacob's car seat protectively on the bed, a book in hand, ready to strike as I glare up at the door.

"Uh...she's not bothering you, is she?"

My face softens. "Oh no...of course not. We're just sitting here...watching TV..."

Rick catches the bird (or, I notice that it jumps onto his out stretched hand obediently) and takes him into the next room to put her in her cage. Sighing, I lean back onto a pillow and whisper, "Crisis averted."

Lo Siento

Well, I did exactly what I promised not to do, and that's neglect my writing/this blog. I will get better, I promise. My whole Sunday writing thing isn't working out so well, unfortunately. Getting up at 4:30 AM just knocks me out and I tend to just go to sleep and not wake up for 12 hours. Anyways, Parts II and III of Prop Str8 are being edited, my BETA reader is just a bit indisposed with school and a novel of her own, so I am just waiting patiently for her. I am finished with one part of another 3 part fiction story, I just need to have it edited, and I'd rather finish the other two parts before I send it off to be proofread, just because I'm OCD like that.

School is going well, it just seems to drag. Work is work, it never changes. I just wish people actually knew how to order their coffee. I guess the bright side of work is that the longer I stay there, the more material I have for my book. Whenever I think I've seen/heard it all, someone surprises me. I have my classes for next semester, and I'm on the wait list for one. Hopefully I can get it, but I'm sure I will, because there's always at least one person who drops.

Now I'm just rambling. There should be an update coming soon. :)