Lunar Landing

Last night when I got back to my cabin after checking my e-mail, laptop in hand, I climbed the short flight of stairs to the front porch and noticed that a swimsuit I had hung over the railing to dry was gone. I looked down, and could see the white lining of the bathing suit on the ground below...the only source of light being the moon.

I walked back down the stairs, still holding my laptop, and stepped down about 18” from the sidewalk into a recessed area where my bathing suit had landed. What I had forgotten, and couldn’t see in the dark, is that the sidewalks are built directly on top of coral which over the past several million years has hardened into jagged rock.

My flip flop got hung up, and I fell forward into the darkness. The next sensation was my toe, and then my shoulder, ribcage and wrist hitting what felt like broken glass. Amazingly, I managed to hang onto my laptop, and I sustained only a few minor scrapes and cuts, the main one being to my upper arm, which bled through the first nice shirt I’ve worn in about three weeks.

By the time I managed to extricate myself using my one available hand (the other one was holding the laptop) and get back up on the front porch, I discovered that in my fall I had dropped my door key. Keep in mind that it’s as dark as all get out, and I gotta go back down there and try to find my key, which is attached to a dark piece of wood about the size of a matchbook.

Not really knowing the extent of my injuries, but feeling blood start to drip from my extremities, I did manage to locate my room key after about five minutes, during which I completely exhausted my extensive vocabulary of profanities. But not before I stood up and banged the back of my head on the underside of the deck. Even though it hurt like hell, I busted out laughing, hoping the neighbors didn't come outside and see a madman howling at the moon.

A couple of things have been confirmed on this trip (besides the fact that I should probably just stay home and wear a helmet, mouth guard, knee pads and steel-toed boots at all times):
1. Physical pain, although not a lot of fun, is a great reminder that you're alive. Unfortunately I don't seem to be able to go very long between reminders.
2. The ability to laugh out loud, even while experiencing discomfort, really comes in handy. (Note to self: Keep this in mind when making a big deal out of nothing.)


Footnote: I'm sitting outside the hotel office uploading this blog entry as a middle-aged woman in a bathing suit is rushing inside holding a bloody towel to her elbow. The locals have nick-named this "The Iron Coast". I guess the name "Broken Beer Bottle Coast" must have already been taken.