By Michael Patrick O’Brien–
During the last few months, I fell up the stairs four different times.
I now am working at the office almost full-time again, post-pandemic (hopefully). As a result, I can’t practice law while barefoot or in my Birkenstocks like I did at home for two years. I must wear my big boy shoes.
The big boy shoes used to be comfy slip-on penny loafers. They helped me glide around the office with grace and flair, much like Fred Astaire or Gene Kelly might have done if starring in a movie about an employment lawyer.
Right before the pandemic started, however, my foot doctor said the lovely penny loafers were bad news for my pronating ankles. I had to invest in heavy duty shoes that provided more support.
As you might guess, more support means more shoe. I now own something like Peter Boyle’s monster footwear from the famous “Puttin’ on the Ritz” movie scene in Mel Brooks’ Young Frankenstein.
After I got the new shoes, however, I did not wear them all that much because of the pandemic. Now everything has changed. The Frankenfootwear is on my feet five days a week and tripping me up. And by up, I mean up the stairs.
I’d like to stop falling, of course, and I probably will when I learn to more-conscientiously pick up my feet when strolling about in my Sasquatchian shoes. Until that happens, however, I am trying to make the best of it.
Making the best includes noting and sharing the unwanted but undeniable wisdom available to those who regularly fail up the stairs. This is an untapped and surprisingly rich body of knowledge. Here are a few nuggets I’ve discovered.
The natural human tendency 90% of the time after falling is to jump up as if nothing has happened and immediately look around to see if anyone saw you. 100% of the time for me. This is my little contribution to the study of human behavior. You are welcome.
Hot tea and stairs are not compatible. Put a lid on that cup.
My vast experience nimbly scaling four flights of stairs several times each day in my college dorm days is of little use to me now. That was four freaking decades ago, old man.
Never fall in front of a client. Sure, one typically does not hire a lawyer based on his/her stair-climbing skills. Still, it’s bad optics when your client must explain, “Yes, that IS my lawyer thrashing about on the ground.”
Falling up the stairs is a lot less dangerous than falling down them. At least I’ve got that going for me.
The awkward moment of the crash can be used constructively to help ensure the safety of others. Last time I fell, I pulled myself up, mustered whatever shred of dignity I had left, and—in my deepest authority voice—told the fellow following behind me, “Watch out for that LAST step young man!”
Asking for a friend…even if you have not been drinking alcohol, will people nonetheless assume you’re liquored up when you fall up the stairs at an event with an open bar? Yes, so you might as well have that drink!
Own it and turn it into a strength. This tripping thing can become an endearing and favorite quirk, one that makes your friends smile when it happens. Visualize them affectionately explaining to others: “Why yes, Mike did just fall down. He does that. Isn’t that cool?”
The soreness-to-fall ratio is not reduced by frantic efforts to avoid a full out collapse. My recent vigorous attempt to fight a full out sprawl fall bore an uncanny resemblance to the Disney movie scene where Bambi tries to ice skate with Thumper. It was entertaining, but also contorted muscles I never knew I had. It also demanded more ibuprofen doses than what I usually take when I simply embrace the beckoning ground.
It may be a genetic condition. My dear mother fell often too, sometimes spectacularly. Once she misjudged the span of a deep gutter she jumped over while running (in big girl heels) to get to church on time. Despite the ensuing human-on-concrete collision, she still went to church, torn nylons, bloody knee, and all. I think this must make her the patron saint of falling, but it also explains a lot about her accident-prone progeny.
Clearly, my lumbering feet have taken me to a place of hard-earned wisdom. Although the journey has left its marks, the enlightening destination is a valuable reward. In fact, it may even be lucrative.
Perhaps, for a fee, I’ll be able convince you and others to get in touch with your inner oaf, and welcome clumsiness into your own life?
Maybe you’ll buy a series of cleverly-composed self-help books with eye-catching and intriguing titles like: Let go of the Handrail of Life and Live!
You might even plunk down some serious cash to attend seminars called The Seven Habits of Highly Defective People, outlining a half-dozen ways to embrace your awkward and gawkish side?
Then again, maybe not. You would never fall for that.
*Mike O’Brien (author website here: https://michaelpobrien.com/) is a writer and attorney living in Salt Lake City, Utah. His book Monastery Mornings (https://www.amazon.com/Monastery-Mornings-Unusual-Boyhood-Saints/dp/1640606491), about growing up with the monks at the old Trappist monastery in Huntsville, Utah, was published by Paraclete Press in August 2021 and chosen by the League of Utah Writers as the best non-fiction book of 2022.
