I went down, and I went down hard. I landed directly on my ankle, which made an odd noise- much like a POP- when I landed on it.
The next morning, I woke up to dark purple (Indiana University crimson?) ankle that was at least twice the size of my other ankle. This was problematic because I had a job interview in Indianapolis (an hour away) that day. This was March 2002, a mere seven months after 9/11. The economy was turning down, and fast. I had to go on the interview. But first, I had to get some crutches!
I could not find anyone anywhere that would sell me a set. I tried and tried, and no one would take my hard earned, (OK my parents’ hard earned) good money for a set of crutches. Next, I tried to rent some. That was also unsuccessful as , no one will let you rent any without a prescription for them. When it became clear that I was not going to be able to procure crutches in the very short term (I had about an hour from the time I woke up until the time I had to leave for my interview), I resigned myself to the couch and the Real World marathon that was on.
My pity party lasted only a few short minutes before I realized that life had to go on because we had another basketball to watch the next day. The question wasn’t IF I could find somewhere to watch game comfortably, it is was WHERE would I go?
There have been a few times in my life when I have been able to play the Princess Card (my entire pregnancy comes to mind). This was one of those times.
We rolled up (in my case, gimped up) to the bar about an hour before tip-off. This time, however, we did not have to wait in line for entrance. We were whisked to the front of the line and ushered in the door. It was kind of like being one of the Kardashians. The princess treatment did not stop there! The hostess pressed on, through the throngs of fans clad in cream and crimson. She stopped in front of a table that was DIRECTLY IN FRONT OF THE TV! Forget Khloe, Kourtney, Kris and all the rest of them, this was the Kim Kardashian treatment!
We assured her that this table would work for us (hell yes it would!) and thanked her for her help. These crutches rocked!
Although the game did not have a fairy tale ending, at least I was able to watch it in style.
My crutches also came in handy during trips through the crowded bar to the bathroom- my boyfriend would stand behind me, yelling “Girl on Crutches! Coming through! Move!” while I would whack those in my way with the rubber end of my crutch…
All in all, crutches suck. However, being the ex-Girl Scout that I am, I was able to make the best of it. Having the best seats in the house (outside of the stadium) did make it all worth it.