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This week, it seems news feeds are full of frustration. Rather than go off on a rant about climate change and the running tally of reckless decisions,  let’s kick off the weekend with a dose of laughter.

A few weeks ago, as I was driving and passed a sign that read “Chook Poo at roundabout,” I nearly drove off the side of the road thinking I must be imagining things. I turned the car around, snapped a photo, and had a good laugh.

It seems like such a far cry from my days of living in New York City.

I have realized through the years the saying, “if you can make it here, you can make it anywhere” is true! Now, as opposed to making it in the concrete jungle, I find myself adjusting to the new normal of wildlife off our back deck, possums calling our walls home, and the occasional sign advertising poop for sale.

Years ago, when I first moved to New York, little did I know that “making it here” would include falling into oncoming traffic and while picking myself up off the ground, another person would steal my cab.

I had walked the 10+ blocks earlier to get to an eye doctor appointment. I thought I would get my check-up, new glasses, and be on my way.

I left my sunglasses back at the apartment, not realizing this would later be an issue.

The technician put drops in my eyes and warned me they could potentially make me sensitive to the sun.

Could potentially? That was an understatement!

I stepped out onto the sidewalk. In an instant, it was like the sun was burning a hole straight through my eyes! A little sensitivity? {Insert numerous expletives} My eyes were watering uncontrollably as I stumbled around trying to find a haven from the glaring rays of sun. I turned a corner and stood on the side of the nearest building for a moment, trying to stop the tears from flowing. A reprieve.

Dear God! How am I going to get home? I thought to myself.

I looked to my left and saw a cab sitting at the stoplight with its light on. I quickly darted over to the cab with my hand in the air, hoping to get in before traffic started moving again.

Watering eyes and unable to see clearly, I was about to reach the cab when I face planted straight onto the street. My foot met its match with a pothole and down I went. It hurt.  A lot. When I got up, the light had not turned green, so I quickly wiped myself off, noticing that my legs were bleeding but I cared more about my watering eyes in that moment and just wanted to be in the comfort of a darkened cab.

Just as I was opening the door, a woman jumped in and the light turned green. She slammed the door and there I stood with no cab, bleeding, eyes watering, all in moving traffic.

Now what?

I ran back to the side of the building, everything still a complete blur. Across the street, I saw a fuzzy version of the glorious green ball – hallelujah – subway entrance!!  As soon as I saw an opportunity, I made a mad dash and quickly found my way down to the tunnels where I would be safe from the sun. Eyes watering. Knees bleeding. Hands scraped up. Finally, darkness. Glorious darkness.

I stood there waiting for my train and finally got on, ready to get home and sit in the comfort of obscurity and darkness until the eye drops wore off.

As the train started to move, I noticed other passengers looking at me, not wanting to make eye contact. I thought maybe they had just witnessed me falling into traffic and felt sorry for me. Whatever it was, I didn’t care. I was just happy to be underground, away from the sun, and heading in the direction of my apartment.

I was busy making my plan for when the train stopped. I would have a few avenues to dart across in the sun over to my block, where the buildings would hopefully shield the sun for the rest of the walk home.

I made my exit and literally ran back to my apartment, breathing a sigh of relief as I entered through the doorway. It was one of those moments where I shut the door and let my back slide down the length of the door until I was sitting on the floor.  Ahhhh. Deep breath.

And then…I looked in the mirror.

I was covered in blood.

Little did I know (because I couldn’t see) when I fell, my hands were bleeding. As I wiped the hair away from my face after the fall, blood from my hands had smeared all over. I stood there looking at myself: ripped pants, cut up hands, dilated pupils, and blood all over my face. In that moment there was nothing I could do but laugh, uncontrollably. I literally looked like I murdered someone, which explains the stares and lack of eye contact from the train ride just minutes earlier. The crazy little blonde lady with blood all over her face.

I didn’t leave my apartment for the rest of the day and still remember calling my mother to vent, “Who steals a bleeding girl’s cab in traffic!?!?”

I am certain I consumed a lot of wine retelling the story…days later…once those potent eye drops wore off, my wounds were healed, and my pride was intact.

Cheers to the weekend.

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