Geriatric Gymnastics

My sad story begins with a long walk to a short class. Or one that passes for short in college. I had started up the long hill from the UC parking lot to the Biology department. I had on a backpack, as usual, and was hoofing it along pretty smartly for an old man. I was in my own little world, and not really paying attention to what I was doing. Suddenly, my toe caught the sidewalk. Having had my share of falls, accidental and otherwise, I took it on the roll, using the energy of my descent as fuel for a forward somersault. I ended up flat on the concrete, staring at the shiny, green leaves of a Magnolia. I slowly rose up, looking around for witnesses. A young fellow was eagerly striding in my direction, oddly enough with a smile of anticipation on his face.

“Are you all right?” he asked
“Fine, just fine,” I answered.

“Are you sure?” he insisted.

“Yes, I’m sure. Just caught my toe on the sidewalk.” I grumbled.

He looked at me in disappointment. His gaze began to make me uncomfortable, and as I came to the slow realization that he was waiting for something to happen.

“I’m really all right,” I said.

“Well, if you’re sure,” He said uncertainly. “I could help you if you needed me to. I’m training to be an EMT.”

This explained much. He had seen an old fart collapse spectacularly on the sidewalk in front of him. His newfound skills as an EMT hopeful had kicked in. He would save me. Imagine how cool he would look for the girls, all at my expense. He would be famous, maybe even make the school paper. He probably had even imagined the headline:

STUDENT HERO SAVES GERIATRIC OLD FART ON PATTERSON

Well, no such luck today, Skippy. This geriatric old fart was going to class.