Six feet down
Many years ago when I was almost out of my teens I had to visit the hospital for some physiotherapy on my shoulder. Not having a car at my disposal, getting to the hospital involved a short train ride and a ten-minute walk at each end.

At my destination, a station I'd been to many, many times before, I was suddenly seized with the urge to do something I'd never done before. Every visit previously I'd walked sedately down the slope from the platform exit to the street. This time I was determined to vault the railing, one hand on the railing like you see in the movies, and land dexterously on my feet to the rapturous applause of my fellow passengers.

My foot didn't quite clear the top of the railing, pitching me forwards to fall six feet onto the tarmac, to the rapturous laughter and giggles of my fellow passengers. One of them took pity on my stupid self and made sure I hadn't broken anything beyond my pride. My shoulder didn't half hurt, though.

The physiotherapist wasn't impressed when I asked her if I could reschedule the appointment due to smacking my shoulder into the ground while carrying out a stupid stunt.
( flake has nothing against your right leg, Wed 27 Jan 2010, 13:49, Reply)