Dec 16, 2019 3 min read

I did it again. I broke another toe. This time I broke the Piggy-Who-Gets-Roast Beef, but I also injured the Piggy-That-Gets-None. Twenty years ago, I broke the same toe on the right foot. I still find it frustrating that toes don’t have names. It’s just the big toe and all the other toes. For the sake of this story, we will refer to the crushed digit as the middle toe because there are two on each side of it.

I was injured in a parking garage – before I got in my car. This was a pedestrian accident. No cars were damaged, just tootsies.

Friday night, I was walking to my car in a parking garage in the city. It was after a glorious evening. Yes, there was alcohol, but I had one glass of wine with dinner and left the event at 11. I was stone sober when I hit the stone wall.

I tripped and careened into a load-bearing wall made of stone. When I landed, two of my toes on my left foot were facing a different direction than the others. You may wince if you like. I did.

I sat on the ground for a long time.

Here’s the thing. I took my shoes off because I had been wearing dressy loafers for 17 hours. I thought I could make it to the car in my socks. But I tripped and I fell in the parking garage. I was on the floor for a few minutes. Someone asked me if I was OK, but I said I was fine. I lied. I lied to a stranger. I don’t know why. He walked to his car while I pretended I was fine – on the floor – in a parking garage. Looking back, he probably should have helped me up anyway.

I was really trying not to cry in front of him. It’s best that he got in his Toyota and drove off. Luckily, I was up and hobbling to my car by the time he pulled out of his parking space. Otherwise, he might have run me over. I was, after all, sitting on the yellow “out arrow” for a long time, pretending to be fine.

The middle toe on my left foot is smooshed. It looks like an empty beer can at a frat party. It is scrunched. It’s no longer the longest toe. The middle toe on the right foot is much longer than it is. They used to be the same size – until Friday night.

There’s one advantage to having a broken toe in December. I’m unable to go Christmas shopping at the mall. I won’t have to go out into the cold. I won’t have to endure the crowds. I won’t have to deal with the parking.

Frankly, I’m afraid of parking garages all of a sudden.

I’m going to Amazon.com and getting everyone a copy of “All I Want for Christmas” by Michael Buzzelli. I won’t even have to leave the sofa.