Human Cushion

My day today starts off well. The fact I'm not at work until 10:30 means I can stay in bed and have a snuggle with McBride before leaving at 10. As I won't be finishing until 7, I decide the best idea is to grab the train in and back again. Save walking through a frozen park in the dark. (rhyme)

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So I grab my tickets, hop on a train and take the three minute journey into Argyle Street. There's a fair few people jumping off with me and we march towards the escalator. For some strange reason, you have to go down a flight, before walking along a tunnel then back up a flight again. I'm not quite sure why.

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So we walk along and make our way to the 'up' one. I'm standing there listening to 'Doves' when suddenly, about half way up, I feel a sudden thump in the back.

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And this is just the beginning.

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The guy behind me has missed the step whilst running up the escalator. he has fallen forward and is now using me as a human cushion. BANG!

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Now imagining this next bit happening in slow motion.

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I fall forward. My hands go out to stop myself. The tips of my fingers hit the step three up from mine, bending my finger nails backwards and numbing the nerves in the middle and ring fingers on both hands. My right shin hits the very corner of the step in front. the 'tooth-edged' step you find on most escalators. My left foot slips out behind me, turns 90 degree clockwise and hits the step behind. My cheek hits the moving banister and my book hits the floor.

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ouch.

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'Oh, s**t, I'm so sorry, I'm sorry, oh s**t, oh god, are you OK? oh s**t.' Is all i can hear and i nurse a poorly face with poorly fingers. The guy behind my has his hand on my back and looks whiter than a white thing. (snow?)  at this point I'm so embarrassed but the fall I just smile and say 'Don't worry, I'm fine. no worries. not your fault.'

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At this point, we're at the top of the steps. He looking very concerned. (He's about 50 so it's all very strange t have a guy this aged with his hand on my shoulder.) But I just shrug off all the sympathy and smile again. 'Don't worry.' He picks up my book and I wiggle my fingers, still numb

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I continue walking (limping) to work. I get into the staff room and see I'm shaking. shaking? why?

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My manager sees me and makes me a cup of tea. Then I prod my leg. Yep, that hurts. Prod my face. Yep, that too.

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But at least my fingers don't hurt. It's 4pm before I feel them again.

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Moral? Less haste, more speed. Or, try not to used small women as pillows. we will break.