Mind the gap (literally)

So before I left for Bulgaria this week, I trekked all the way over to La Défense (reminds me of when we used to meet up there Crystal!) in order to buy a crock pot.  I had originally purchased one maybe 18mo ago from 3suisses, and the darn thing would crack after only a few uses.  I kept asking for a refund each time, but instead 3suisse would just send me a new one, and wash, rinse & repeat X 4. The fifth time was a charm, and I finally got a refund after saying I was worried about the fire hazard their poorly-made product was bringing into my home. (Though as a side note, they didn't tell me they were sending a refund check, so I sat there waiting for a new crock pot for weeks on end until one day the check just showed up in the mail - Eff you 3suisses and your crappy customer service).

But that still meant I needed a new crock pot.  So I started looking around online, and the one I wanted was 100€. I'd only been reimbursed 50€ for the old one, and given we are in mega-savings mode, I didn't want to spend a fortune, so I decided to wait until after Christmas to see if one popped up online as an unwanted Christmas gift.  And lo and behold, there was my crock-pot, brand-new and at the price I wanted, so I set up a time to meet the owner at LD to pick it up.

On my way back, I transferred at Concorde to the line 12.  As I was entering the metro car, someone bumped me from behind and I got caught slightly off-balance. So instead of landing on the floor, my foot went straight down through the space between the car and the quay.

Yep, you read that right. 

I ended up on one knee, with the other leg dangling in the hole. On top of that, the crock pot had fallen out of the bag.  I froze for a second, panicking about the doors closing on me, but then all of the sudden, everyone around me reacted and I felt several arms lifting me up and into the car.  As the doors closed, a fellow-passenger had the foresight to quickly grab the crock pot box and scoot that inside too.

We all just kind of looked at each other for a second, and then the panic wore off and the mortification filled in. Like omg, I cannot believe that just happened to me.  I thanked everyone around me, but all of the sudden their Parisian faces were back on and everyone was just pretending that nothing had happened.  Tant mieux.

I'd like to pretend nothing happened either....and I would, except I have an eggplant-sized bruise going down one side of my leg and a bunch of scrapes going up the other side.  My only saving grace was that my shoe did not fall off.  You see, it had already semi-fallen off twice that day just during walking, and by some miracle, it did not fall down on to the tracks.  It was bad enough being *that girl* without having to go through the humiliation of having to make the rest of the trip home with only one shoe.  Between my big Carrefour bag, my messed-up hair, and a missing shoe, I would have looked like a right bag lady! 

Just another glamorous day in Paris...