It’s 12:50 on a cloudy Thursday afternoon. I walk out of the restaurant and cross the street to Caribou Coffee, one of my few guilty pleasures. Cognisant that this decision will likely make me late returning from my lunch break, I walk quickly to the nearest Metro stop.
Walking down the escalator, I notice that my train is approaching the station. I quicken my pace. Suddenly, as I turn the corner, my shoe slips. My entire body lurches forward. I must protect the delcious Caramel High Rise that has made me late for work.
Without thinking, my body effortlessly lunges to the ground in what is unmistakable a pancake dive. Had this been the championship game of IM volleyball, I don’t think I could have executed a more perfect dive.
I slide along the tile at the Metro station, my cup of coffee perfectly parallel to the ground. Not a drop falls.
My dignity may be wounded, but my coffee is intact.
Hopefully the half dozen people that came to my rescue appreciate the sacrifice.
I had no idea volleyball dives would be such a useful skill.