The heel broke off my favorite pair of boots while I was on my way home from DSW last night. Guess I’ll just have to go back tonight for like 4 more pairs.

It was supposed to be a good morning. I woke up early and cooked a delicious breakfast: eggs on toast with some green tea. It may not be culinary genius, but compared to my usual Nature Valley bar crumb explosion, it was a real treat. My morning routine went so smoothly today that I even had time to watch a whole episode of Law & Order before heading out.

It was a little damp and dreary this morning, but that didn’t stop the joggers and dog walkers from being out in full force. As I approached the Addison stop, I could see that a train had just arrived. With seemingly no chance of making that train, I took my time getting through the turnstile and upstairs. It wasn’t until I reached the platform that I realized the train was still there. I went for it, and just as my left foot hit those blue bubbles that warn blind people of the edge, I slipped and fell straight down on my ass. That wouldn’t have been so bad by itself, but then I realized that my right calf was now stuck between the train and those damned blue bubbles.

Perhaps it was shock, but I have no idea how long I struggled to free myself from the gap. I remember that it wasn’t an issue of my leg being caught, but because my backpack was weighing me down, it was a bit like pulling myself out of a deep pool with no ladder. At least two very loud swear words escaped me in the process. I’m not sorry and I don’t take them back.

Suddenly, I was fine and on my way to work as usual, but something didn’t feel right and it wasn’t just my left buttock. It was the fact that there were at least four young men crowding the doorway and not one of them helped me. There wasn’t the slightest response except to briefly glance up from their smart phones. All I needed was a hand to help me up. Perhaps the moment passed more quickly than I realized, but even after I got onto the train, nobody asked if I was alright. I would have settled for a sarcastic, “have a nice trip, see you next fall,” because at the very least my scary moment would have been acknowledged by another human being.

I suppose I didn’t expect to be offered a seat, but as the shock wore off I started to realize how many parts of me ached: my tailbone, my shin, my knee, my back, not to mention my dignity. A seat would have been nice.

So far I have encountered mostly outgoing, friendly people in Chicago. Today was a real let down. Maybe they hadn’t had their coffee yet, but it doesn’t require much brain power to know that a girl with her leg between a concrete platform and a multi-ton moving object NEEDS HELP. Hell, I would have even bought them a coffee for their trouble (one of those ritzy, expensive ones that taste like gingerbread).

Lessons learned:
1. Don’t run for the red line. There’s always another one coming, even if that “immediate follower” doesn’t show up for ten minutes.
2. Help the poor stupid girl who falls on her ass. Have you ever heard of a meet-cute? Maybe I’m not available, but there’s no harm in letting every girl on the train see you be a class act.

I think this at least once a day. Can we please save the psycho banter until after I’ve had my coffee?