This week the entire staff of the Two Row Times was nominated in the “Winter Challenge 2014”. For those of you who don’t know this is basically a rolling dare happening on social media.
This week the entire staff of the Two Row Times was nominated in the “Winter Challenge 2014”. For those of you who don’t know this is basically a rolling dare happening on social media. Once named by a participant, you have 24 hours to go outside wearing only your underwear, making snow angels while being videotaped by a giggling companion. In victory, you then post the video to your social media timelines and publicly nominate others to compete in the dare.
The best part about completing this mission successfully is getting to target your friends and call them out to join in the humiliation. Then everyone laughs together in the spirit of good fun. But I had a different plan!
You know that one person in your life who is a major pain in the butt? That one person you would love to sink in a dunk tank in the middle of winter? I have one of those people in my life. This was my opportunity! I would challenge that nemesis to roll about in the snow in their underpants. If they did, I would get the satisfaction of watching them suffer through the freezing cold. If they didn’t, I win bragging rights for the rest of my days. It was the kind of win-win situation that would have made Doctor Evil proud.
As I’m rushing about the house getting ready I ran past the mirror and did a quick check to see that I looked okay. A quick look was all I needed to see all that the public would see in my video if I did not find a razor – immediately.
I thought about leaving well enough alone and just heading out the door and letting my Chewbaca legs take centre stage but self-consciousness got the better of me and I ran back to find my razor.
Now, every woman and girl knows what I am talking about when I say that I did a sink shave. That is when you stand one-legged like a flamingo with one leg in the sink, quickly doing your business. Rinse off, dry up, switch and repeat. Easy five minute task – done.
However in a fit of stupidity as I was switching legs I neglected to dry. A puddle of shaving cream water had gathered beneath my feet. As I went to switch legs I started to slip. I grabbed onto the sink for dear life.
“Help! Help!”, I cried. I was gripping for taps, spouts, anything I could reach for to keep me from falling. I was like Skywoman gripping for roots. In the distance I could hear the faint sound of my husband leaving the house, innocently unaware that I was in danger. ‘Oh no!’ I thought.
“Help me I’m slipping!” I shouted again. For the life of me I could not get my right leg out of the sink. Every time I got my left leg beneath me to stand It would slide right out again. So here I am trying to get my bearings, with one leg stuck in the sink, in what can only be described as an indoor Slip-n-Slide, crying for help.
“I’m gonna fall! Help! Help! I’m falling…I’m falling…” I shouted. At this point I was sort of laughing. Slowly my hands were losing grip on the tap that was holding me up. It was like a hilarious slow motion ballet. Finally after about a minute of a beautiful contortionist display, WHAP! Onto my butt I slid and smacked the back of my head onto the rim of the toilet.
I managed to get up, slowly crawling across the floor on all fours so I wouldn’t slip again, and made my way out of the bathroom. My family came rushing to help me. An hour later I was on my way to the emergency room with a very sore head and a very stiff neck.
All the way there I was so mad at myself. Why was it so important to me to complete this stupid challenge? For fun? No. I wanted to humiliate someone else. Me and my big ideas.
A few hours and an X-ray later the doctor told me that my neck was fine, except for some serious muscle spasms. For the pain, he prescribed a “shot” of something called Toradol.
While I was waiting, another family from Six Nay had taken their seats outside my room. Now I was taught that whenever you see another Ongwehowe person out in the world, you acknowledge them and say hello. Knowing this, I made a mental note to acknowledge them and say hello after I got my “shot”.
That is when a male nurse came into my room with a needle about eight inches long.
Shocked I said, “Where does that have to go?”
“In your bumcheek.” he replied matter of factly. Laughing and crying, I assumed the position.
A few minutes later I came hobbling out of my hospital room. Still bent on fulfilling my social obligation to say hello to the Hauds sitting outside my room I quickly looked over to nod hello. I made direct eye contact with the lady sitting outside my room and said “Hi.” She, knowing full well I’d been given a needle in the bum, darted her glance away as quickly as I’d caught it. Because everybody knows that a needle in the bum is the most humiliating medicine in the world.
I limped halfway down the hallway and my mother and I started laughing hysterically. I prayed out loud and accepted this humility lesson the Creator was giving me. We laughed all the way home; my bum still aching and I said a prayer of thanks to the Creator for correcting me and protecting me from harm and nearly abandoning my good mind.