I came to realize that the wooden planks and banana peel have something in common.
Some punk had littered the tidiest of the street with banana peel. Stepping on it, I lost control. To add to the misery there was a little stone on the floor that my my buttocks fell onto.
Oh Lord, it was 52kilograms of pain condensed to 1 square inch initially, and it gradually expanded to about 1 square-palm.
For the first time in my life I realized my lungs can easily reach the
vocal range of an opera singer, and my hands have the reflexes of a mongoose. I appreciate your imagination.
Pain in the ass is really a thoughtful idiom.
Before I get distracted, here is how this incident relates to my realization mentioned early on.
It was from the 8th grade that we sat on wooden planks. Until then, not even them but floor. 8th grade was when the school recognized the beginning of development in us.
I mean, academically!
Two wooden planks were joined for 5 of us to sit in each row. It was quite comfortable most of the time, and we took pride in sitting on them.
But occasionally, when the stars would align, well, we couldn’t see stars in the morning though, the two who sat at either side of the row did something and the 3rd in the row would have his butt squeeze between the wooden planks.
His hands knew exactly where he was hurt, and we could see his pain as his face turned pale.
Knowing that this happened often, the rest of us refused to swap our places with his, in spite of his offer to buy us ice-candy in return, the popular 50 paisa delicacy we couldn’t resist that time.
Although this happened often, I presume it wasn’t as painful as that of my experience today. I say that because my friend from the school could never be heard.
I mean he would never scream his pain out. But we knew when it happened as his hand moved at a pace that violated the laws of motion.
Anyways, doesn’t that prove my argument about the similarly between wooden plank and banana peel?
You may disagree today. But one day, when _you_ step on banana peel and fall onto your buttocks that you will come back and agree with me in regret.
You can’t have the wooden plank experience though, to compare which one stands out.
Not because it is from my childhood and I envy anyone else experiencing it,
but because the school’s furniture has gotten a makeover these day.
No, wait.. They are wooden desks now! So, should you want the slightly similar, but the other experience too, before you agree with my observation, let me know. I will drive you to my home town next time.
I don’t curse the punk that littered the street. No. Not at all. He did a favor. Rather significant one. After all, it is because of him that I know couple of things I didn’t earlier: My vocal range could match that of an opera singer. I’ve the reflexes of a mongoose!