Epic F.A.I.L.s of 2021

Epic F.A.I.L. stories

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  Riverboat Fantasy

  by Barb Day, about 4 years ago
  

  Riverboat Fantasy

  by Barb Day

  My house is situated across from the Grand River in Paris. I’ve tried kayaking and canoeing. Too much work! I had to think twice when my neighbor found a great deal on turbo tubes. Not inner tubes, more like an inflatable raft. If all the neighbours purchased one, we could get a great deal.

  “I’m in,” I said rather reluctantly. That was my first mistake.

  I learned the hard way that the river is beautiful, but it can also be dangerous. I learned that you need to be aware of your surroundings. I learned that... Continue reading

  Riverboat Fantasy

  by Barb Day

  My house is situated across from the Grand River in Paris. I’ve tried kayaking and canoeing. Too much work! I had to think twice when my neighbor found a great deal on turbo tubes. Not inner tubes, more like an inflatable raft. If all the neighbours purchased one, we could get a great deal.

  “I’m in,” I said rather reluctantly. That was my first mistake.

  I learned the hard way that the river is beautiful, but it can also be dangerous. I learned that you need to be aware of your surroundings. I learned that friends are always there for you. Floating around, sometimes backwards, talking to my friends, music blasting. That was my second mistake.

  There were usually 6 or 7 of us that would paddle from Glen Morris to Paris. You can hit low spots in the river and get stuck on the rocks. If you’re experienced, you know how to paddle to get yourself out of these predicaments without having to get out of the tube. If you’re really smart, you watch the canoers and kayakers. They know how to avoid the low spots by keeping to one side or the other of the river. Not me! I always manage to get stuck.

  There’s a small island we always stop at. We have a hiding place under a tree where we leave the memento of the day. Silly things like a painted rock with our names on it, a marble, a bottle cap, a toonie. Next time we’re out, we check to see if our treasures are still there. So far they have been, except for the money. That disappeared quickly.

  On a balmy day last fall, our group was standing on this island, and my friend Cheri pointed out an unusual spot in the middle of the river with rocks on both sides. She mentioned how it could be easy to get stuck there. She cautioned to stay to the left of these rocks where the water was higher, and we should be good to go.

  I was listening. I swear! When we got back in our tubes to head out, I set my music blasting on my small waterproof speaker, “Riverboat Fantasy.” I was talking loudly to a friend, trying to paddle closer where she could hear me, and not paying attention. That was mistake number 3.

  Next thing I know, I was wedged between those rocks that Cheri had warned about. Solidly wedged, facing backwards. The tide pulled my friends forward as they swiftly glided away, and there I sat feeling like a fool.

  There was no way I could paddle my way out of this, so I got out of the tube and yanked it free from the rocks. The tide was moving swiftly and pulled at the tube. I lost my grip, and it began to float down the river without me. The tube was travelling in one direction, my backpack containing the speaker floating in another with David Wilcox still wailing away about a rock and roll band with a reefer in his hand.

  I stared helplessly, as a couple of kayakers grabbed my backpack, and a friend grabbed hold of my tube. It wasn’t like anyone could battle the tide and come back and rescue me. I had no choice but to start walking.

  “Shimmer, glimmer, I think I’m gonna fall, woops, catch me mama, that’s all.”

  I know for sure now, those compact stereos really are waterproof as David Wilcox droned on.

  Plodding along through the murky water, I tried to avoid the curious looks from other paddlers. Lucky it was shallow here or I would have to swim to catch up.

  “Delta suns beats down like a hammer, it gives me the low down blues.”

  When I finally caught up to my group and recovered my tube and belongings, my friend Karen pulled out a budgy cord and proceeded to tether our tubes together.

  “We’re not letting this happen again.”

  For the rest of the river run, I bobbed along behind Karen like a toddler. It was great! I didn’t have to bother paddling.

  “That's the life for me.”

  Drink in hand and music blasting, I simply enjoyed the ride.

  I'm sailing away from my heartache on a Riverboat fantasy!”

  
  
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  Pride goeth before the fail

  by SEvenden, over 4 years ago
  

  I'll begin by saying that our bodies have a way of reminding us when we have attained a certain ....ahem...age. If you currently arise from bed in the morning and NOTHING HURTS, treasure that experience. I wish I had enjoyed it more. Still, aside from the occasional ache and pain, I've had a pretty good run into my 50's. (Note to reader: I don't actually run). Nothing had seriously broken, at least not until Easter Weekend of 2021.

  If you know Brantford, you are familiar with the main entrance to the Lynden Park Mall. That's where it happened, after a... Continue reading

  I'll begin by saying that our bodies have a way of reminding us when we have attained a certain ....ahem...age. If you currently arise from bed in the morning and NOTHING HURTS, treasure that experience. I wish I had enjoyed it more. Still, aside from the occasional ache and pain, I've had a pretty good run into my 50's. (Note to reader: I don't actually run). Nothing had seriously broken, at least not until Easter Weekend of 2021.

  If you know Brantford, you are familiar with the main entrance to the Lynden Park Mall. That's where it happened, after a quick stop at Laura Secord for some Easter goodies. To this day I couldn't tell you if I tripped, was pushed, or had a brief out of body experience. All I know is one second I was upright and the next I was face down on the sidewalk below the sign for Food Basics, with the chocolate bunnies and contents of my purse surrounding me. I am not a graceful human at the best of times, and I can only imagine what this descent looked like to the audience. While in my prone position, I could hear the concerned chatter of onlookers around me and become aware that I was a public spectacle. Someone helped me get to my feet, someone else gathered up my belongings, and a lovely lady who I estimated to be 10-15 years older than me insisted on escorting me to my car. "You'll want to have that looked at", she advised me solemnly, regarding my bloodied left hand. "I've had a few bad falls like this. It's probably broken". I thanked her politely, inwardly dismissing her concern. She was elderly, of course her brittle bones would snap at the slightest pressure. I was a vibrant woman in my prime with wine and ham to buy. I zoomed away from the shame in the general direction of the LCBO.

  In my 20's, my ungracefulness did result in a couple of minor broken bones. There was, for example, the time that I slipped while hiking with my boyfriend (now husband) and he used the last of the ice in the house for his cocktail, convinced I was being dramatic. (it was a hairline fracture). This time, I enjoyed the full fracture experience. I was discharged with a cast and a pamphlet titled "make your first fall your last" which I took as an age related affront.

  I started telling people that I broke my hand street fighting, since I had what was called a fighter's break, which is usually sustained while hitting something, like a wall. And to be honest, it had some upsides, such as being temporarily excused from annoying household chores like moving my daughter back from university, changing the garbage, weeding the garden, etc. And although my golf season got started late, I had a built in excuse for every lousy shot (grip strength compromised). If the fall itself wasn't graceful, in the end, it was a lesson in grace - being able to recognize my limitations, accepting help when needed, and slowing down the pace.