Miss Peach

I don't understand why people are suddenly falling off of ships left and right. It's like an epidemic. Did the railings get smaller or something?

This just makes one thing completely clear to me, and that is that I will not be going on a cruise anytime soon. I'm not exactly what you'd call coordinated. There's a reason I always wear flats and try to avoid ice skating and rollerblading. I don't have what you call balance or grace, despite the fact that I was born on a Tuesday and so am supposed to be chock-full of it.

I was reminded of a particularly klutzy moment from my past when, a few days ago, a friend emailed around a review of a restaurant where possibly the most embarassing event of my life took place. I was out with friends for dinner, three of whom I've known since high school and one girl who I had just met. We had finished the meal (during which we had all shared a bottle of wine, which would calculate out to ONE glass for me, thank you very much), and asked for the check. It came, and I leaned down to the right where my purse was sitting on the floor to get my wallet, and all hell broke loose.

Now, a word about the physical space: this was a tiny restaurant with a tiny back patio, where we were seated. The patio had small stone tiles on the floor that were reminiscent of cobblestone, so it wasn't exactly an even floor. And the chairs were those rickety wood violin-backed four legged ones you'd find at a "classic" italian place with red-checked cloths and drippy candles in wine bottles.

So, I was saying. I leaned down to the right, and the chair leaned with me... except it didn't stop leaning when I went to sit back up. It kept going. The legs all sort of folded under to the left, and I kept trying to ground myself with my right leg but I couldn't keep my footing. This is just so typical of me. Once I start going down, I just can't stop, and this was no exception. And because my friends couldn't do a thing, they apparently all covered their eyes, winced, and looked the other way while huddling into each other for support.

I went down--ALL the way down--to my right. But I didn't hit the ground. Nope, not me. I hit the guy sitting at the table next to me. And I apparently hit him at exactly the right angle, because he then started going over to his right, and he couldn't get his footing either. So he went over, but remember, this is a really small New York restaurant. So he didn't hit the ground either. He, of course, fell into the guy sitting next to him. And that guy? The guy on the end of the row of tables? He tried to stabilize himself by grabbing the table. And rather than stop the fall, the table went down with him.

At this point, you could have heard a pin drop on that patio. I was still on the floor, completely dumbstruck and incapable of doing anything except wondering whether my friends would understand if I just got up, left the restaurant, and waited for them down the block, and thanking god I hadn't worn a skirt that day. My best friend, god bless her, examined the chair and discovering the legs were loose and loudly proclaiming the chair faulty.

I don't think I have ever loved anyone more than I did her at that moment.

The guy I fell into was SO pissed at first. He looked at me with the nastiest look I think I have ever received. But when my friend declared the faulty chair, he suddenly became so nice and gave me his chair and stood to wait for a new one. I apologized profusely to him but I couldn't even bring myself to address the man on the end who now had his dinner on him. I turned to the table of girls who were trying their best not to break into fits of hysterical laughter and focused on keeping myself from bursting into tears while one of them quickly dealt with the bill.

I'm either resilient or used to mortifying myself in public, because by the time we got onto the street I was over the rock in my throat and was able to laugh along with them, to the point that we all wound up crying from the hilarity of it all. And the best part is that the one girl there who I hadn't met before dinner has since become somewhat of a friend, and every time something comes up about that night or that restaurant, her response is, "I remember they had an excellent goat cheese tart, but that is, funnily enough, the only thing I remember about that night!"

And now that you've seen what I'm capable of on terra firma, I think you'll agree that, clearly, putting myself on a ship where I'm surely going to be having a few drinks here and there is not a good idea. I'd be overboard in a minute. And I'd probably find a way to take whoever decides to travel along down with me.