Watch Out For That---

Manholes. They're more dangerous than you think. Sitting in the middle of the road or sidewalk, they wait for unsuspecting victims to engulf with their ready, wide mouths. They are an unlikely predator, an unmatched terror in a world full of evils. No one is safe.

I can be the first to tell you that these attacks come swiftly and without warning. One spring day, the sun shining in the bright, azure sky, and the verdant grass blowing in the wind, I had been strolling alone, minding my own business and listening to my iPod. I had finally broken out the capris and the flip flips, and was enjoying the refreshing warm weather after a long, cold winter. It had rained the night before, creating large puddles in the unleveled dips in the concrete.

Since I was wearing flip flops, I tried my hardest to avoid stepping directly into any of the scummy rain puddles. I hated the way my feet slid against the rubber soles of my flip flops when they were wet, and I was determined to keep that from happening today--no matter what.

And then I stood before an incredibly large puddle. It was too big for me to leap over, and it took up the entire width of the sidewalk. My only option was to go around it.

The portion of the lawn this puddle sat in front of just happened to have a manhole along the edge, slanted in a tiny incline from the ground. A convenient set up, no doubt. I took a deep breath and placed my foot on the cover, having done this numerous times before with no problems, and slowly began to shift my weight over to that foot. So far so good.

But as I began to lean forward and continue on my way, something went horribly awry. Within seconds, the cover of the manhole had opened up, and down I went. It all happened so quickly. The fact that I had fallen hadn't even registered in the first few seconds. It wasn't until I looked down to see my left leg dangling in the open hole, my arms on the sides holding me up, as my right leg remained outside the hole.

It didn't hurt that much at first, but my left leg had been scratched slightly from the fall. Not to mention any semblance of self-confidence I once had was now sitting at the muddy bottom of the hole. My first thought, however, wasn't "Ouch" or a swarm of curse words. No, surprisingly, as I looked down at my swinging leg, mud caked on my calf and my pants, what first came to my mind was,

'I just washed these pants!'

'Ouch' wasmy second thought.

Slowly pushing myself out of the hole, I checked to make sure that I had everything. Limbs? Check. Purse? Check. iPod? Check. And thank God for that. If I had looked down to see my iPod in the mud, I would have dove in right after it, no doubt.

Sighing, I tried to wipe all the mud I can from myself before looking at the open hole and the cover sitting next to it.

'Great,' I thought, 'how am I going to move this back on?'

As if on cue, a rather attractive male, around my age, crossed the street to where I was standing. He approached me cautiously, probably never having seen a girl fall in a manhole before. But I couldn't really blame him, I guess.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

"Yeah." I answered quietly. 'Just my pride is wounded.' I thought to myself.

"That looked painful," he said.

I nodded, thinking to myself, 'And your entrance into this scene has officially made this moment in my life the next teen blockbuster.'

The boy knelt down to move the cover back over the hole. "That's strange that it just came off like that."

"Yeah," I replied, bending down to help him move to cover. I could hardly move it, and I am surprised by the fact that it is so heavy, especially since I had no trouble moving it off before. I made a mental note to do 100 crunches as soon as I got back home.

"Oh don't worry, I can get that."

'If you insist.' I thought, standing up. I made an effort to wipe more mud off as the boy moved the cover back over the hole. "Thanks," I said.

"No problem," he replied, standing up and wiping mud off his hands. "Are you going to be alright?"

"Yeah, thanks."

The boy nods and awkwardly walks back to his car across the street. I imagined him with his friends later that evening, laughing as he told the story of the girl who actually fell in an actual manhole. Go figure.

I turned around and made my way, with a slight limp, back home. I was torn between crying and laughing. It was a scary experience, dangling in that hole, not sure of how I got there. But then again, who falls in a manhole? Rather, how does someone who isn't a Looney Tunes Character fall into a manhole? The entire circumstance seemed unreal, and I took the time on my walk back home to reflect on it.

Winter had been a rough time for me, and I had attributed that mostly to the cold weather. Once the sun had started peeking out of the clouds more, and the days had started getting longer and warmer, I had noticed a sunnier, brighter attitude in myself. There were still some rough days, but for the most part, things seemed to be looking up. I had taken my walk to clear my mind and to meditate. It just goes to show that one minute you can be standing, having just pulled yourself up out of a funk, and out of nowhere you're dangling in a hole in the ground. Life was funny that way.

I spent the rest of the night inside, and ever since that incident, I have always gone out of way to avoid manholes, a rather acute form of paranoia, in my opinion. My experience was a sort of wake-up call for me. Not to say begrudgingly that life is just a series of disappointments, of course. I like to believe I am still an optimist. No, what I learned is that while sometimes you can't be prepared for life's manholes, the only place to go is up, and just as the old proverb says, you have to pick yourself up and get back on the horse. Doing this, rather than giving up and getting comfortable at the bottom of the manhole, will prove to be the most rewarding life lesson, even if your pride gets wounded along the way.