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Stairway to humiliation

As I am sure many of you have noticed, there is a multitude of staircases around Grounds that transport us from place to place and allow us to get to class or simply explore the beautiful and unique architecture of the University. But for some of us, these stairs bring a sense of inevitable shame and impending klutzy behavior.

Yes, I am speaking of tripping and falling down the stairs. Days are ruined instantly by a slip of the shoe. And believe me, I know. I am the world champion of face-planting.

Last Monday I missed the last step descending some stairs behind Bryan Hall. And it wasn't one of those cute tripping moments where I caught myself and laughed it off -- that happens to me about twice a day even when I'm walking on the sidewalk, so it no longer fazes me.

But in this specific case I found myself lying on the ground, having ripped a hole in my jeans, cut my knee and skinned my palms. Groups of people had stopped to stare at me like I had purposely thrown myself off the step onto the sidewalk for some between-class entertainment. I almost wanted to scream, "Don't judge me, it's Monday!"

Because really it's such a mortifying moment for everyone involved -- kind of like watching a train wreck. The person who falls looks stunned and silly, but the people who witness it have to hold back laughter or ask the faller if he or she's okay, or stare at the spectacular display of clumsiness and thank God it's not them.

It's also really hard to piece together how you got from walking to sprawled out on the concrete, bleeding -- it happens so fast and there's no stopping once you start going down.

In my vast experience of falling down the stairs, I still haven't mastered post-stair plummeting gracefulness. As oxymoronic as it sounds, I've learned that it's necessary to play it cool after your peers witness such a public display of awkwardness.

Having a friend with you is key. This way you can laugh it off together instead of looking even crazier for sitting alone on the stairs and laughing at yourself. Sadly, I was walking alone when the aforementioned incident occurred, so my reaction was less than suave. I think I even apologized to the people standing behind me for having to watch it happen.

To be fair, I was listening to music and wasn't holding onto the railing, and everyone knows not to touch the railing because there are a million bacteria living on them. And how can I be expected to balance when I'm daydreaming, listening to my iPod, wearing flip flops and walking, all sans banister?

Tripping up the stairs is also possible. Your shoe gets caught midway on a stair and seconds later you're sprawled out as your peers move past while classes are changing, sometimes even glaring at you for blocking their way, like staircase road kill.

Falling when no one is around is the best, though. You get up, look around and sigh with relief that you weren't spotted. It's almost like it never happened. At least that is what I keep telling myself.

One positive aspect of public humiliation I've learned from my chronic clumsiness is that some members of the University community are sympathetic to those of us who have a little trouble navigating. To the people who've asked if I was "okay," I thank you for not laughing in my face even though I probably looked really funny.

And, yes, perhaps -- just perhaps -- I am being melodramatic in writing an entire column about falling down the stairs, but I feel like it is a common problem that plagues all of humanity and our stair-climbing ways. Everyone is awkward. Let's embrace it and move forward.

And, of course, if I witness any of you tripping on the stairs, I promise I won't laugh. I'll just feel really grateful that I'm not you ... until I meet the next staircase.

Mary's column runs bi-weekly on Wednesdays. She can be reached at mbaroch@cavalierdaily.com.

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