Trippin'

Sausage fed.

Leashes gathered.

Sunglasses in place.

Thoughts lord knows where.

I strode along, humming John Prine, thinking of things I had to do, knowing every step of my usual walk....

....except for the bit of walkway that sticks up right there. Yeah. In front of the two handsome men who were talking in their shop doorway, next to the construction site. Across from the Grand, where a ton of people leaving to go places, getting into limos, off to the Film Festival, the airport, people I don't know... I know that, but, at that point, you figure you know everyone knows you then... my little black flat clipped it and I went from upright person to flat on my breasticles.

There was no planning, no 'OOPS!' no nothing. No wrinkle in time. Boom.

The dogs stopped, surprised the leash went slack. The men ran forward to see if I was breathing.

I had two choices; lie there and look wan, having them help me up, and ply me with water, fan me, and delicately walk away.... or roll on my back and laugh.

I did the second. I mean, what can you do? I was sprawled out on a sidewalk in SoHo, in front of people who had luggage that cost more than I make, with two tatty white dogs, two handsome men leaned over me, and a construction crew looking over.

I laughed, popped up, and said, "Well, lets just act like nothings happened, and I'm chatting with you." We stood there and one said, "How 'bout them Yankees?"

I took the leashes, did my walk, looking out for cracks that can break your back... and when I went back on the Grand side, the door guy shot me a grin.

Cheeky sod.