Things have a way of sneaking up on us, don’t they? Birthdays and deadlines do it all the time, surprise! They catch you unaware, sure, but they don’t knock you to the ground and hold you there. The wind will. It’s a mean, sneaky bastard. I know this because it came after me a couple days ago.
I was skipping merrily along, minding my own business, when the wind came out of nowhere and sucker punched me with a body slam — whooomp! — four blocks from the main library. It was an invisible 60 mph blast from the north I did not see coming. And I went sideways, against my better judgment and best intentions, straight into a parked car. Hard.
Remember bop bags, those inflatable plastic clowns you’d beat up, but couldn’t knock down? That’s what I turned into: a staggering, skittering, reeling bop bag. My backpack acted like a sail, catching the wind and buffeting me, sending me caroming from parking meter to street light to mailbox to wall. At high-speed and off-balance. I’m certain it made for entertaining street ballet, my stumbling, graceless performance.
How does a person fight back against this quixotic, malevolent force? Me, I clung like death to anything upright: including the aforementioned fixtures, plus flagpole, cement planter, bus bench, and doorknobs. I scuttled like a crab, hunched and furtive, for two scary blocks. Then I came to a broad intersection or, more accurately, a giant freaking wind tunnel and met my Waterloo.
The prospect of venturing across traffic in such gale-force conditions — where I’d have only bumpers to grab, the ones on moving cars — was far too daunting. I turned around and scuttled home. I had discovered my inner wuss. My role models, Olive Oyl (Popeye’s girlfriend) and Granny Clampett (from the Hills of Bever-lee), they would have soldiered on. Why didn’t I?
Well, at this late stage in my life, I think it dawned on me that I’m not animated nor do I have a stunt double. I’ve accepted the fact that I’m breakable, a hateful and disturbing thought if ever I had one. I’m hoping it passes quickly, like the wind’s been doing. Wish me luck.
*Translation from the original Pig Latin: nix on the wind.
copyright © the whirly girl
the whirly girl 
14 responses to “: ixnay on the indway* :”
I feel a little guilty, Lisa. Thanks to your excellent description, it was as if i was watching the whole incident from a coffee shop or something. Of course, if I had been there – I would have checked to make sure you were OK, doing my best not to giggle once I reached you.
And I do mean that – the bit about being OK. I do hope you are OK.
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Aw, thanks, kiddo, you’re the best. But if you’d tried to come to my rescue you’d have been blown away like a tumbleweed. Between the two of us, though, maybe it would’ve been a hit on youtube!
And I am ok. Embarrased, but ok. Thank you for caring. And chuckling : )
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I’ve never given the wind much thought until of course it sneaks into my life – it’s a great metaphor.
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Why didn’t I think of that, the wind as metaphor would have been perfect for this. You’re so creative, ww, I envy your talent : O
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Your story reminded me first of the horrible winds we have had around here the last couple of weeks, and then I flashed back to the day after the hurricane in St. Petersburg FL. I was staying in a hotel for a conference, which was canceled, and I looked out the window and saw this guy trying to walk down the street going from parking meter to parking meter. It was hilarious. I stayed indoors. I had slept through the whole hurricane anyway.
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You crack me up, Len! Since you’ve seen parking meter man, you know exactly what I looked like doing the same thing. I know people were watching out their office windows, I would’ve been, too. It beats being the performer. I enjoy your posts, they’re so entertaining!
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Thanks. Just so you know, I would have been one of those “watching out their office windows” having a good ‘ol chuckle.
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Understood ; )
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I mean no disrespect to Olive Oyl (I am also a big fan, especially of her fashion sense) but I think she would have been flattened by wind of that force. You did the right thing – when in doubt: scuttle.
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Hi, home tome. Let’s start an Olive Oyl fan club, She is, hands down, the greatest woman in all the land: beautiful, charming, funny, and that voice? Sultry.
In a Wind vs. Olive Oyl match my money would go on OO. Every time. She’s one wily fashionishta. It was great to hear from you. I’ve got to get over your way soon and see what you’ve been up too. It’s always something fun : )
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We sometimes get freaky little “mini-tornadoes” on the farm. Once one of them ripped some fabric row cover up into the sky and deposited it on our neighbor’s property hundreds of yards away. It looked like someone’s parachute had failed when it was coming down. Glad that wasn’t you.
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It wasn’t me this time, you mean. Don’t be surprised if some afternoon I land nearby, you’ll recognize me by my hairdo, Jo. Bring a comb, please.
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Oh wow… that must have been breathtaking (I know… It’s lame). I call the wind a pervert. Ever noticed how he is always blowing up girls skirts? Its a sad time when one realises that one is not animated and doesn’t have a stunt double. Imagine if The Island was real? We could all have stunt doubles. It must have been a funny sight. In my mind it was funny. :)
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Sad is a good way to describe the feeling of discovering you’re not animated. Crestfallen is another. While I was busy scuttling from pillar to post I had a mental picture of what I must’ve looked like. It was both amusing and humiliating at the same time, but amusing won in the end. Thanks for understanding.
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