As long as we're talking about Holiday Slip-and-Fall stories, I'm going to get this party started with an all-time favorite, one I like to call "Grocery Shopping on New Year's Day." It goes something like this:
Eight years ago, BC (before Cleo), when Robey was about 18 months old, he and I had been out of town for Christmas and we flew back home on New Year's Eve. There was no food in the house but we were both tired, so we (I) postponed shopping until the next day. I called a grocery store at 8am to find out what time they opened, because I'm way too organized and smart to drive out on a holiday if the stores aren't open yet, especially when there's a gargantuan blizzard on its way.
No answer. I called again at 8:30. No answer. 9:00 -- nothing. 9:30 -- bupkes.
I was beginning to wonder if the stores were going to open at all on New Year's Day.
** Digression: my sister, Curley, and I used to go to the mall every Easter, and walk away disappointed. We're Jewish -- what do we know from Easter? We just thought it was a nice quiet day without a lot going on, and we'd spend the day shopping. After a few years we finally figured it out, just around the time the malls started opening on Easter.**
I called the Ritz Hotel, because hotels are always open, and an extremely polite voice confirmed that no supermarkets were open on New Year's Day.
(I know at this point I should have resorted to Wal-Mart, but for some reason, most likely mounting apprehension, the idea never occurred to me.)
The helpful Ritz voice suggested trying 7-11. Panicking (we were getting hungry, and if we got snowed in without food we'd have to resort to eating the dogs, who were mostly bones and hair anyway) I snatched the phone book and dialed the first 7-11 that looked like it might perhaps be within fifty miles of my house; the guy had one carton of milk left but he wouldn't hold it for me, so Robey and I threw on sweatshirts over our pajamas (well, I threw them on both of us) and jumped in the car, at which point I realized I hadn't the faintest idea where 7-11 was.
My unappetizing options: Plan A: drive aimlessly looking for a 7-11 which might or might not be the one I'd called earlier, and might or might not have the one carton of milk I wanted, then probably drive aimlessly some more in search of another 7-11, which might or might not have what I needed; or, Plan B: check into the Ritz, which might or might not allow us to bring our dogs and might or might not require my first born child in lieu of payment; or Plan C, which basically consisted of winging it.
So I tried Walgreens, where I shoved past a couple senior citizens to snatch milk and eggs and a couple dented cans of peaches.
Then Robey and I made our way across the street to a deli and waited in line, trying hard to be invisible because we (really me) looked so awful, and all sorts of people we knew were there. After 45 minutes of nonchalantly pretending that chasing a sticky toddler was my idea of a fun way to spend a holiday, and avoiding eye contact with people who weren't sure they recognized me because I looked so scary, I left with cold cuts and a couple pale tomatoes, just as the blizzard was beginning to blizz. On the way home we stopped at a hospital, because people get sick or have babies every day, and stocked up on cottage cheese and questionable lettuce at their restaurant.
We were snowed in with our meager provisions nearly four days. Thank goodness, the dogs lived to defile the carpet another day. Lesson learned: ask whoever takes care of the dogs when we travel to stash something in the refrigerator before we come home.
Remember, I'm doing another Slip-And-Fall Story Giveaway. This time, in honor of the season, tell me your favorite Christmas, Hanukkah or Other Winter Holiday Slip-And-Fall story, and win a personalized photo mouse pad from FeeFiFoto. And, as long as I've got one running, I think I'll run the other simultaneously: same Fame contest, same rules. Both contests will end on December 15th at midnight. Good luck!
