by clicking the arrows at the side of the page, or by using the toolbar.
by clicking anywhere on the page.
by dragging the page around when zoomed in.
by clicking anywhere on the page when zoomed in.
web sites or send emails by clicking on hyperlinks.
Email this page to a friend
Search this issue
Index - jump to page or section
Archive - view past issues
Grapevine : March 2011
me. I tried to describe where I was, but there was this landscaping bush that was separating us. We kept talk- ing as I kept trying to get her to see me, unsuccessfully. So, I started jump- ing up and down and waving my phone in the air, saying, "See me?" She said, "I hear you, but I don't see you!" So I started jumping up even higher. All of a sudden, as if in slow motion, I felt myself falling to the right and---splash!---the next thing I knew I was in the water! My phone was still in my hand, and was the only thing that didn't go under. My daughter was so shocked and scared. She tried to pull me out. A group of men forced their way through the crowd to help. That is when my daughter noticed people on a tour boat taking pictures. She yelled at them, "Don't take pictures! It isn't funny!" (She later told me she was surprised the people on the boat actually listened to her and put their cameras away.) The four men pulled me out of the water that was ... what ... four feet deep? I was drenched. They got me to the stairs and sat me down. Two medics gave me a neurological exam to make sure I was not experiencing some sort of seizure or condition. That went OK; I passed. Then they slowly took my red boots off, drain- ing the water out of them---along with the muck---only to find that my left ankle was really messed up. They told me I should go to the hospital. A police officer agreed. I thought, there isnowayIamgoingtogotoanout- of-area hospital to spend my last day of the convention, or miss the chance to have lunch with my sponsor on the Grapevine 17