It had been a long week and, let's face it, with all the walking, the stairs and the just all around spread-outness of NYC, the city is not exactly crippled-friendly, so by the time Friday rolled around, my legs were beyond achy.
So when we went to Macy's , the crowds, the pushing, the shoving and the hugeness of the store became too much for me, coupled with my aches and pains.
So we bought my Dooney and Bourke handbag (What?! I had to have it!) and headed for the heavy revolving door. I wanted nothing more than to find a cab, find our hotel and find a large influx of Tylenol.
Harry, sensing my weariness and being the good husband that he is
went before me in the revolving door and, not wanting me to have to exert any strength in the least, decided to push as hard as he could. Imitating what could only be a Hamster full of speed-laced food pellets on a sideways wheel, Harry ran at full force while I was trapped in the turn-style behind him.
Helplessly, I crashed against one side of my small glass cage and then against the other as Harry continued to sprint at Mach 10.
He only stopped when my leg got caught in the door.
And that, my dear readers, is the day a WVian man was almost killed by a chubby, red-faced woman on the steps of Macy's, the biggest store in the United States and the happiest place on earth to many credit card carrying fashionistas!