Today's story of awesomeness:

I work in the top of a very tall tower. Like, more than fifty stories high. Since we're so high up, our restaurant's restroom is generally reserved for guests. Chefs and servers use either the catering floor bathrooms one floor below us (which is technically not allowed) or the bathrooms on the observation deck floor two floors below us.

I have routines in all sorts of things, and that includes work. Immediately after our pre-shift meeting ends, we've got 10 or so minutes before our first tables arrive. Every day, following this meeting, I go downstairs, so that I don't have to in the first parts of the shift. It's like peeing before a car trip.

So, last night, I was taking the stairs down (the elevator takes too long, and what if I got stuck in there? Again.), and somehow managed to trip on the grip tape. Take a moment to digest that thought. The tape that was recently installed so people won't trip is what I tripped over.

And then I missed the last four steps before the landing. As I started to come crashing down, I tightened my grip on the handrail, did a spin out, and landed on both knees and my right elbow. My left hand still had a deathgrip on the handrail.

Immediately after I bit it, two catering servers came into the stairwell. I was splayed out, and looked up and said "OHHAIGUYZ! I just fell." And then I started laughing as though I wasn't in a good deal of pain. Sort of maniacally. The two catering servers kept walking, not really acknowledging me, since I'm sure I looked like a crazy person.

I used my left hand to pull myself off the landing, and limped down one more flight of stairs. Then I sort of fell into the bathroom, because my whole left leg was emitting a shooting pain with every step I took. Another server was coming out of a stall as I slid down the wall.

She was all "huhwhathappenedtoyou?" Righteous injury before my first table. She helped me get back upstairs to our first aid kit which contains two sizes of band-aids and a 500 count bottle of ibuprofen that I brought in. No antiseptic or antibiotic cream, no burn gel, no nothing. The blood from my wounded knee was sticking to pants, which also got destroyed by road rash. My bosses said I could go home. I decided to stay, and work. We play 'til the whistle blows, injuries and all.

Last night, about 1am, this is what it looked like:



Today, there's a golf ball-sized lump on the shin, my knee is swoll and discolored and my road rash is gnarly looking, all on the left leg. The right knee is bruised and my elbow has a raspberry on it.

I am a ballerina.