Our first stop on the Tour de Chattanooga was Rocky City. We got there soon after it opened. It started out so innocently. It was a beautiful, cool, misty, serene morning as we walked through the enchanted corridor. Soft, soothing music was playing in the background. Signs with earth-friendly quotes were posted periodically. I felt at one with nature. Peaceful. Tranquil.
We strolled along, sipping Starbucks lattes and snapping goofy pictures, as per usual. 
[Okay, how can you not love this man?]
After meandering along the stone pathway in the gardens for a few minutes, we eventually came to a area with some pretty flowers. Brent suggests: “Why don’t you hop up on that ledge and get some pictures of the flowers?” I happily obliged. Never mind that I had the camera in one hand, hot coffee in the other, and a 5-pound purse/camera bag hanging from my wrist. Oh, and I was wearing platform flip-flops. Brilliant.
The next thing I knew I was on the ground. Brent was running towards me, yelling “Christen! Are you all right?!” My camera and purse were laying beside me, covered in coffee. Coffee was dripping from my hair and running down the sidewalk. The empty cup lay on the walk next to the lid and one of my lens caps. I overheard a man say to his young daughters: “UH-OH!” I put my sunglasses on so that I could bawl my eyes out without frightening the children or attracting any attention from the employees. My knees were scraped and bruised, my toes were scraped, and I hurt all over. Brent said that my fall was so loud he thought a rockslide had started. Clearly, he got a big kick out of the whole incident after he found out I was okay.
I wish I could say that the ledge was unsteady or that a small rodent jumped out of the flowers and scared me, or even that I lost my balance. But no: I simply forgot that I had jumped up on the ledge and just stepped back off of it. These things happen when you get older, I’m told. I realized what had happened during my free-fall toward the ground. In that split-second when I shifted all of my weight onto the leg that had stepped back into thin air, I consciously thought: “What an idiot!” And you know, it concerns me that that particular thought was so instinctual, even occurring before: “Ooops!” or “Oh no, hope I’m not hurt!” So not only do I have a memory problem, I apparently have a negative self-talk problem as well. Ha! Great.
Notice in this picture I am gripping the rail of the swinging bridge for dear life and chanting in my head: “Must remain upright. Must remain upright.”
An eagle (statue), mid flight:
Although I quoted Mama when I saw this ledge --“I’m afraid I’m going to jump!” – I immediately realized that intentionally falling off this ledge was the least of my worries. Must. remain. upright.
Not a great day for pictures! It was really hazy. But the view was fantastic!
Highly recommended: finding a husband who will make a fool out of himself for a good photo-op! Ha! It certainly makes for an interesting time. What a sport!!!
Gosh, how can I be the ONLY person that thinks “No smoking in Fairyland Caverns” is HILARIOUS!
Brent, again:
So, after all was said and done, I limped out of Rock City with coffee-matted hair, streaked mascara, a scraped knee, and a battered ego. Brent was laughing all the way to the vehicle. Happy Anniversary, honey.
No comments:
Post a Comment