Two days ago after a particularly biggish night Simon, Mark and I decided to venture out of our apartment at 2pm for a spot of breakfast. We did this somewhat delicately because the sunlight was hurting our eyes and the roads were slippery with ice and snow.
So there we were walking along when all of a sudden WHOOOSH! a man immediately to our right stacked it. And I mean STACKED IT. We saw the whole thing as if in slow motion – the grin that turned into a look of shock, the helpless flailing of the arms and finally the ungraceful dismount into yoga position 649 (the one where one leg is dangling above your head while the other one has jammed its way into your large intestine via your nostrils).
It only took a few seconds for the man to spring back to his feet and laugh about the entire incident with his companion while casting a backwards glance just in case he’d left something important, like his spleen, lying on the icy pavement. But his vision mustn’t have returned to him quite yet because he didn’t notice that his big black wallet was in fact lying there, right next to the imprint of his arse.
Being the good Samaritans that we are, all three of us – Mark, Simon and I – lunged to pick the wallet up and hand it back to him. And all three of us slipped and did the running man for a terrifying two seconds before recovering. The wallet got returned to the mortified but thankful man who went on his merry way while we almost lost our lives to laughter.
We started to imagine scenarios wherein we’d been caught up in the ice trap and rather than slipping back onto non-slippery ground had continued to run in the same spot. All three of us, just jogging with pronounced, animated movements and cheesy grins while normal people walked past us to buy their bread.
I can’t explain just how funny we found this.
We're sober now.
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