Slippery When W
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Slippery When Wet slot gacor
If only I hadn't gone back for sunscreen and the trial-sized bottle of slot gacor, none of this might of happened.
Showcase and I were in line at the local Sav-on around 9:30 on Wednesday night. We'd stopped to pick up Diet Coke and some snacks. As we approached the checkout counter, it dawned on me that there were a couple of things I could use for my trip to Bonnaroo next week and I could save myself a trip back here in a couple of days if I just went back and grabbed my items now. I told Showcase to hang on and that I'd be right back.
"Caution" signs were up in every single aisle of the store. The janitorial crew had already begun washing the floors, even though it was almost 30 minutes before closing. The bottoms of my black rubber flip flops slid a little as I carefully navigated my way down the skin care aisle, and I caught my balance on one of the shelves. I selected a bottle of spray-on SPF 50 specially formulated for baby's sensitive skin before grabbing a tiny bottle of Purell. It was the best thing I thought to bring to Coachella two years ago. There aren't exactly tons of places to wash your hands from the filthy ground before shoving food into your mouth at these big music festivals and the Purell was soon envied and borrowed by most of my friends.
Turning around to head back to the register, I looked for an aisle that wasn't being mopped down. Every single one had a "caution" sign up. There was literally nowhere to go. So I gingerly tread up the one in front of me toward Showcase, who was now waiting for me by the door. Just as I thought I'd made it to safety, my legs slid from under me, and I made a perfect Hollywood pratfall onto the slick linoleum. Everything I was holding went flying as I landed hard, my right elbow absorbing most of the impact. I'm certain it was hilarious to watch. I know Showcase was cackling until he realized the severity of the situation.
The first thing I saw as I looked up from my prone position on the floor was the older Mexican security guard offering me a hand back up. I took his leathery palm and got on my feet. I slot gacor thought I was OK, until I felt the searing pain in my elbow maybe fifteen seconds later. I grabbed it with my left hand and hissed through clenched teeth at the approaching store manager.
"What the hell is wrong with you people? Washing every inch of floor while people are still walking around in here? You couldn't wait?!"
Showcase rushed over to see if I was OK. I took my hand off my elbow and it was covered in blood. The shock was wearing off and the pain began to register. I wasn't OK. I wasn't just going to shake it off and be home in fifteen minutes. Pain shot up my arm and I broke down in heavy sobs as the manager, the security guard, and two now-petrified janitors gave me frozen stares while I bled all over my own hand.
That's when Showcase took charge. No one was even moving to help me out. The fear of all four of them losing their dead-end $9/hr jobs was painted plainly across their slack-jawed faces.
"Can one of you do something and get her a towel? Come on, she's bleeding all over the place! Which one of you is the manager? Is there a SINGLE ONE OF THESE AISLES we can walk down toward the restroom without this happening again!"
I threw off my shoes and trudged barefoot and teary toward the back of the store, hanging on to Showcase's shoulder with my good arm. Once inside the restroom, we took a look at the gash on my elbow. It was over an inch long and maybe a half inch deep. I tried to clean it off a little, but yelped in pain as soon as the cool water hit the wound.
"You're gonna have to go to the ER. It's pretty bad."
"I can't"
"You have to. It's way too deep."
"But I don't have health insurance anymore!"
"You don't?"
"It expired 8 days ago. I can't afford a hospital bill."
"Doesn't matter. They're paying for this."
Showcase got me into a chair at the back of the store and managed to find the only calm, English-speaking employee in the entire place-- a fortysomething Asian pharmacist. He looked at my gash, told Showcase to take me to Cedars-Sinai for stitches, and gave me 800 mg of Motrin to ease the pain and swelling. I sat there, heaving in pain for what seemed like half an hour while Showcase filled out an incident report with the store manager. All the while, the two janitors just stood there, staring at me while I sobbed and bled.
On our way out, one of the janitors started speaking to the security guard in Spanish. I took enough Espanol in high school and college to understand what she was saying. She was blaming my fall on my shoes. The black rubber flip flops.
"How dare you? This is your fault and nothing to do with my zapatos!" I seethed as Showcase led me to the car.
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