It’s been awhile since I’ve done this. Here’s a story of me having an embarrassing, event-filled evening just because I’m a magnet for trouble sometimes.
It was a lovely July Saturday. The day started out with doing my duty and giving in to those radio ads about the blood shortage. I went for a late morning appointment to donate blood, and managed to do so successfully as other people fainted around me. I should have seen the foreshadowing.
I followed that up with lunch and a visit with Jenn. Shirts were purchased, dumplings were eaten, antiques were browsed. After that, I headed home for a quiet afternoon at home before heading back to London for an evening of fun.
Dinner was in my happy place – on a patio having a beer and some half priced apps. The plan was to get to the concert venue around 10:30 or 11:00 p.m. so we were in no rush. We walked to the London Music Hall, got our drinks and found a temporary spot while the opener was finishing up.
I, in my infinite wisdom, was standing just underneath the balcony section. At one point I glanced up and saw people leaning against the rail with drinks in their hands and pondered how easily it would be to throw a drink on someone on the lower level. Once again, I should have seen the foreshadowing.
Next thing I know, there’s a drink splashing up into my face. One of those drinks from the balcony had fallen and went directly into my boobs. It fell with such force that it splashed me and my friend next to me. It was sticky, and I had probably half a Palm Bay now residing in my cleavage, but I was okay. It was funny, you get drinks spilled on you at clubs, I’ll survive.
The headliners, the inimitable Redman and Method Man, were about to hit the stage so we pressed closer to our usual spot and met up with Jenn and her crew. The show starts and it’s amazing – they are putting on such a high-energy show, I can’t even believe how lucky we are. I’m bopping along, mildly annoyed at how often people are walking around and going to get drinks or go smoke or whatever. But I deal, the girl behind me hates me and is constantly shoving me, but I’m not going to let that ruin my night. It’s hot in there and the crush of people is making me sweat like crazy. I get another drink spilled on my legs, completing my ensemble.
Then, as another couple shove by us, my poor little toes in their open-toed sandals get a rude visit from the heel of the woman pushing by me. My toe explodes in pain and I reflexively shove the girl off my foot. She glares at me, but keeps moving.
Now here I am, my anxiety-fueled brain saying “Your toe is broken, your toe is broken, your toe is broken.” The thought of broken bones makes me feel faint on the best of days. On a day when I’ve donated blood and then sweated profusely for 45 minutes to an hour? It was enough to send me over the edge.
I feel faint at concerts and in bars fairly regularly. Standing for too long + crowds of people + heat = lightheaded Ashlie. Usually I can sneak off and having a little breather in the bathroom (seriously, who else enjoys the peace of a bathroom stall?) then can return with some ice water and finish out the night. So, being the super smart, not at all stubborn person that I am, I tell Dustin that I’ll be right back and figure I’ll go for a breather. I don’t even make it halfway to the bathroom before I’m on the floor.
I wake up wrapped around a barstool on the floor with hands lifting me up. I’m instantly embarrassed, but I know I’m getting lifted up way too quickly. They turn me around and point try to get me towards the side exit, but I’m on the floor again.
Round two – security gets me back on my feet and gets me outside. I’m handed bottles of sweet, delicious ice cold water and sit outside on a milk crate. The security from the club were all super helpful and assured me that I was only out for a second and just to take my time and relax. I impress upon security that I’m not just some sloppy drunk, I donated blood earlier in the day and it probably wasn’t a great idea. I’m supposed to be the designated driver, not the one on the floor. Apparently I’m not looking great at this point since they’re not keen on my idea to go back in and just sit at the back bar until I regain my composure.
I text Dustin to let him know what happened, but that I’m okay. He of course freaks out and comes to find me. In the meantime, a drunk gentleman sits on the ground beside me and tells me I’m pretty, which is of little comfort.
After a couple of bottles of water, security clears me to go back in, especially now that I have Dustin with me. We head back in for the end of the set, but I find myself a nice little corner to sit in. I’m still having terrible cold sweats and my foot hurts almost as much as my ego.
As the show wraps up, we decide to meet our crew at a nearby bar so I can sit and have something to eat and drink and regain my composure so we can figure out if I’ll be able to drive home that night or not.
Poutine helped some, ginger ale helped more. I managed to get my head off of the table and started to feel more like myself. When the crew decided to head to another club for a funk night, I figured it would at least be good to go for a walk, get some fresh air, and spend a little more time deciding if I was okay to drive.
The night air felt cool and refreshing, and I was feeling okay about heading to another location. That’s about when I tripped over my own feet or a curb or something and crashed into my friend Hank. Yup, definitely broke a toe that time.
By the time we got to the fourth bar of the evening, I was feeling better. Still not myself – but I was enjoying standing quietly and hanging out with my best friend, the wall. Some more ice water and I was feeling well enough that I just wanted to get home. The lights came on in the bar, we walked back to the car and gave our friends a ride home before heading back to Strathroy ourselves.
At about 3:00 a.m., I finally got to crawl into bed with my banged up knee, busted toes, sore wrist, and sticky skin. Somehow it had still managed to be a great night.
You’d better believe I spent today relaxing on the couch though.