Back when I was still living up North, before I was married, my friend Vickie and I had a girls' night out. We went into the city to eat at a gourmet Mexican restaurant and then to see Les Miserables. We got all dressed up (which I never do), and took the train into the heart of the city. We were excited as we walked to the restaurant, anticipating the wonderful food. When we got to the restaurant, we entered the lobby and anxiously awaited going upstairs into the restaurant to eat.
As we stood at the bottom of the wide staircase talking, we suddenly heard a commotion. Things happened very quickly from there. We looked up to see about 10 or 15 people rushing down the stairs toward us. Our first reaction was to get out of the way to avoid being trampled. And that's what we did. We backed away and pressed up against the wall to escape the stampede. It was only after events unfolded that we realized what exactly had taken place.
As we were talking at the bottom of the stairs, a large party was at the top of the stairs getting ready to depart. In the front of the large party was a very elderly man. Somehow, this elderly man lost his balance and began a rapid and unsteady descent down the stairs. Every other member of the large party, along with several employees of the restaurant, saw him heading down the stairs to certain doom, and they all rushed after him in a vain attempt to grab him and keep him on his feet.
This elderly gentleman was headed straight for Vickie and me, who moved aside and let him land face flat on the floor. Not our proudest moment. But, to be fair, it all happened very quickly and our instinct was for self-preservation. The man appeared to be uninjured, which assuaged our guilt ... just a little bit.
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