Cuidado

This is how it works living on the 4th floor: stairs down and elevator up. The first 2 months I practiced equality: stairs down and stairs up. Now I just don't like huffing and puffing my way up to my apartment. Not that I'm entirely out of shape (my resting heart rate is consistently around 60 bpm) but it's just a lot of stairs. I prefer greeting Ami as I walk in the door without the heaving.

A few days ago I was patiently waiting in the lobby for the decent of the elevator. It was a rainy day and I was carrying groceries. I heard the familiar ding and looked up as the door was opening. There standing was a gentleman and we locked eyes. Man alive, did he look familiar. I couldn't place him fast enough, "Are you walking a little slower today?" The memory came back to me. The disaster of last month. The reason I knew this man. I smiled, giggled a little and told him that I'm done prancing around in the rain. He got off, the door closed, and I relived the situation in which we met.

It was a different rainy day and I had come back from being out of town all day. I typically walk with a little bounce in my step and that day was no different. I skipped down the outside stairs to the door and my portero (doorman) greeted me and buzzed me in. As I opened the door he nonchalantly cautioned, "Cuidado". Whenever it's raining he tells me to be careful because the tile floors in our apartment turn into an ice rink with the tiniest drop of water. I stepped over the ledge that makes up the door frame and landed in a giant puddle. Mind you this is in our lobby. I gently stole a glance at my portero: really bro, there are 3 inches of standing water and all you tell me is "cuidado?" 

After less than 2 seconds in the puddle, I took a bounding leap to a dry spot. Splash. I landed in another puddle. What the heck, does the water go on forever? In hopes to escape the water again I made a final jump to the lower level of the lobby. Remember that ice rink I mentioned? Well, that was the last thing on my mind. As I made contact with the tiles, my feet went out from under me, my knee smashed the tile, and then motion stopped. At this point I didn't even try to scramble up. I knew I wasn't going to get out of this predicament dry, so I rolled over to a comfortable sitting position and just let the soaking happen.  The water permeated my tennis shoes and jeans. Then the giggles came. I couldn't help it. My portero just shook his head and looked at me, "Cuidado?"  Thanks for nothing.

At that point my pride is gone and I'm sitting in a puddle of water laughing. I teetered up on the slippery surface and waddled toward the elevator. That's when I saw him. A kindly man standing at the edge of the room gaping. Yes sir, you just saw me take a flying sprawl into our lobby turned slip-and-slide. I promise I'm okay, you can close your mouth now. I said hi, he mumbled something in Spanish (clearly more embarrassed than I was) and I disappeared into the elevator.

And that's how I met him. A nameless man who hasn't forgot my lobby blunder. "Are you walking a little slower today?"