There is no way around the fact that I am a klutz. I trip over phone cords; I bump into walls and signs; in college I was someone who knocked bongs over left and right and everyone always said, "God damn it!" to me; I've fallen down stairs; I've tripped while standing still; I even once nearly fell over a balcony four stories up because I walked right through the screen door and began falling towards the railing. If there was ever a day that marked my entrance into klutzhoo, it was the day I am about to relay.
When I was fourteen I went on a ski trip to Vermont. It was a fun trip. I had a good time. I skied and I hung out with the other kids that went. My mother picked me up when I got back and, as per usual, we went looking for take out. We decided on the greasy health food shop. I liked the vegetable lasagna. Sue me.
This greasy vegetable shop had an unlit parking lot in the back. My mother parked in the lot, we got out of the car, I put my hands in my pocket (it was winter, after all) and we becan to walk. Not five steps later, my face is flush with the concrete, my mouth is full of blood and as the blackness clears, I realize I have just hit the ground face first. My face broke my fall. My entire body landed on my face. That is a feeling like no other.
The downside to my face smashing against rock to support my entire body was that I bit through my bottom lip, just under the lip, itself, between lip and chin in other words. Bit right through it. An actual hole. If you get the chance, and in you're in the mood, take it from me: there's nothing better than a good face-biting after a face-smashing.
My mother rushed me to the emergency room and a doctor-on-call was on-called and he sewed my mouth up for me, which was nice of him because I wouldn't have known how, and then I went home.
The upside to my face smashing against concrete is that I was wearing my retainer and so lost no teeth. One of my front teeth died a few years later and I believe this was due to the face-smashing. I had root canal,the tooth is darker than the others.
I have a scar from the fall, a short buttish line, right under my bottom lip and I rather like it. It's a Harrison Ford kind of scar, it's a tough guy scar. You look at me and you think, "this guy...he's seen things. Look at that scar under his lip." But that couldn't be further from the truth. The truth is that I've only seen the ground very close up many times. These days, I'm just trying to stay up.