You can’t take me anywhere

Went out with friends on Saturday.  We walked over to Moons for lunch, where we ate Bleu Moon burgers and sweet potato fries – yum.  We perused shop windows, where we gaped and giggled at items such as funky red and yellow shoes that gave nod to their bowling cousins.  We loved them (okay, two of us loved them; the other two pretended not to know us).  And since we were still a bit early for the show, we meandered into the Boise State store.  Being a friendly lot, we greeted the cashier before zig-zagging our way to the wee apparel.  I had just voiced my displeasure over the fact that they didn’t have a grey and blue football jersey similar to the pink one when when I felt a tug on my coat sleeve.  Oddly enough, that’s about the time I heard a crash.  I looked down to find a comperjogged shelf, and bottles and blankets strung about the floor.  I just stood there, blinking.  It couldn’t possibly be me, right?  There was no tripping, no sweep of my large purse.  I didn’t flail; I didn’t swear.  So you’re telling me a coat sleeve caused the calamity?!  Oh, C’MON!

Of course, as my friends so kindly pointed out, the shelf was made of wood, the bottles plastic – even the blankets remained sweetly tied with ribbon.  We had only to crawl on all fours to retrieve the items – quickly, before the girl came back to see what-in-the-world was going on.  

So as humiliating episodes go, I guess you could say this one was a winner!