The Flaws of Physics

This is the first in my Re-writes series where I take a snippet from a previous post, add more detail and offer a completely different perspective  from the original telling.

This is from Europe 2024 and our stay in Lyon.

There will be 2 perspectives offered. The first being a scientific offering, and the second one is an exchange between Carol and her brain.

Setting the stage: It was early evening and we were walking back to our Airbnb after a lovely meal that Google Maps had recommended. It was raining lightly after a steady downpour all day.

It was a dark and stormy night. There was a slight headwind which amplified the light showers that kept our collars up. With my Spanish fisherman’s hat pulled down, face turned to the sidewalk, and squinting eyes looking only a few meters ahead I was in our natural walking position, with Carol in the lead.

I was one meter behind and one meter to the right. This had long ago been decided as I had garnered an almost 100% ‘lost’ rate when I was given the lead, Carol’s score was closer to 20%, so despite feeling like a puppy on a leash it was the prudent decision to follow behind her.

She felt in control in the forward position, relying on her memory or a paper map to guide us home, and I was trailing behind with my phone GPS ready to make the necessary corrections when needed. It was a win-win situation.

Carol was wearing her stylish dark blue all-weather jacket with her left hand balled up deep in a pocket to keep warm while her right hand had a death grip on her umbrella. Black slacks and a Parisien scarf completed her look.

I was on day six of my outfit consisting of  rain-absorbing t-shirt, cargo shorts, and Italian sandals with no socks, and my all-weather cap. My right hand was wiping the rain from my face while my left hand held our ‘sac pour chien’ (doggy bag) from the famous La Kave Maltée, with a small plastic container of their signature sauce balanced on top. One eye on our route and one eye on the bounty that we would gorge on while laying in bed, cuddling for warmth, and reading our tablets.

Carol has a slavish adherence to rule obeyance and as we stepped over the curb crossing onto the narrow street the light turned orange. Carol, anticipating that a dump truck might mis-time the light and mash us into tourist pesto, picked up her pace and sped to the safety of the sidewalk. I, being mostly testosterone-based, strolled a couple of paces behind at a laggard’s pace (nary a dump truck in sight).

Whether it was the dark brooding evening, or just the mist on her glasses, Carol didn’t notice the change in elevation of the road surface compared to the sidewalk and while her left leg was on pace for a world-record 40 meter time, her right toe caught the edge of the concrete and stopped all momentum on that side. The result was instantaneous as she became airborne corkscrewing from left to right.

Now here’s the physics.

It was a perfect storm; because her hand was in her pocket with arm tight to her torso, it made her the most aerodynamic that she could be on her ‘fast’ side, and then with the realization that she had relinquished control of her body to gravity she jerked her right hand up causing the umbrella to pivot behind her with the yawning opening facing into the breeze. Not only did this maneuver cause more air to be trapped but it actually caused lift and extended her time in her terra firma-free space.

With her head cocked, eyes wide, and mouth agape ready to spew profanities, we both realized that there were two ways this could go. The first was a half rotation which would land her on her back and probably bring on a concussion, or the second was a complete 180 with a landing on her face with bottom lip dragging on the pavement, probably leading us to test the French dental system, and more likely to the Costco eyeglass department… fate chose a modified second option.

Now more physics.

The heavy afternoon rain had washed a considerable amount of soil from the flower beds that ran alongside the sidewalk onto the hard surface. This had formed a black slurry that had pooled exactly at the point where Carol’s first point of contact was landing. While being messy, this was actually the best outcome as it provided lubrication and Carol’s jaw skimmed the pavement like a Wayne Gretzky slapshot and not a bicuspid was tarnished.

From my trailing perspective I had the best view in the house. She was literally a whirling dervish and with the umbrella mimicking her rotation even as it vanished below her and then reappeared and eventually landing on her backside, still fully open. It was all I could do to contain myself from shouting ‘Bravo! Bravo!’ If only I had been wearing a body cam, then we could have gone viral and made enough money to replace her torn garments.

Alas, my small part in this show was still to come as I gave my complete focus to protecting our vittles from suffering a similar fate as poor Carol. I miraculously maintained a steady hand as I balanced the special sauce in my left hand and reached down to spring my sopping wife from her watery residence.

Not wanting my bare knee to touch the icky sidewalk I was in a half crouch and with my attention split I blindly dropped my right hand and inadvertently slipped two fingers into her mouth instead of under her arm and I yanked upward. Her head jerked hard to the right allowing her ear to slosh into the puddle. With a pitiful yelp she glared directly up at my face. I could tell that my otherworldly accomplishment of protecting the sauce was going to go unacknowledged and the chance of cuddles later was a longshot at best. Puddles not cuddles.

Now the second perspective.

Carol’s brain will be represented as the tower at an airport: air traffic control, or ATC for short. Carol will be represented by her inner voice, or Carol for short.

We will join the exchange as Carol streaks for the sidewalk against the orange traffic light.

ATC: Carol 101, what is your situation? Over

Carol: Tower, we are taxiing down the roadway. Over.

ATC: Carol 101, are you ready for liftoff? Over.

Carol: Liftoff? I’m still taxiiiiing! Shhiiiit!

ATC: You are reaching maximum altitude. Your fuselage might not be able to withstand impact. Over.

Carol: Noooooo! Over.

ATC: You are moving into an ill-advised barrel roll. Over.

Carol: I’m sorry, I thought that I was a BALLERINA at the effing OPERA! Over!

ATC: Be careful, there might be a dump truck on the runway. Snickering sarcastically. Over.

Carol: There might be a dump on the runway alright. Over.

ATC: If you release your wind turbine you’ll have a shorter trip. Over.

Carol: It’s necessary to keep my hair and face dry. Over.

ATC: Then why is it behind you? Now under you. Now over you. Over.

Carol: Aaaaaaaa! Over.

ATC: That was a very quick deceleration. Is everyone on board okay? Over.

Carol: (With a mouthful of puddle) Spplrfttt cough cough .

ATC: How’s that umbrella working for you? At least your butt will be dry. Over.

Carol: Get someone over here to help me up! Over.

ATC: I’m sending my best man right now. Over.

Carol: Yelfp! Ow ow! Where’s the pointy end of that umbrella? I’M GOING TO MAKE SOME SPECIAL SAUCE COME OUT OF HIS THROAT!!

*So you see there is always more to daily mundane occurrences than meets the eye. If there’s something to be gleaned from this interaction,  it’s always wear a body cam.

Let me know in the Comments if you enjoyed this latest offering. Don’t bother suggesting improvements because “It’s my party and I’ll write how I want to”. Over.