Two nights ago I passed through our galley kitchen on my way to the laundry room. I’d left on the ceiling light over the washer, so there was enough ambient light in the kitchen that I didn’t turn on any additional lights to guide my way. I should have, because I slipped on something and fell. Earlier in the evening I’d washed the dishes and immediately assumed I had splashed some soapy water onto the floor. However, when I got up off the floor and turned on the overhead light in the kitchen, I saw I’d slipped on a banana peel.
When I was washing the dishes, I also did an overall clean up of the kitchen. I noticed our bananas were overripe, so I peeled a half dozen and stuck them in the freezer. I thought I’d thrown all of the peels away, but one must have slipped through my fingers as I carried them from the counter to the compost container. An hour later, the wayward banana skin took me down.
It has taken me sixty-six years, but now I can confirm that banana peels really are slippery. I didn’t actually land flat on my back, but otherwise it was just like the old movies. One foot sailed out until my leg was parallel to the floor, and down I went.
I have told the story four or five times since it happened. When I tell young adults, they laugh and then ask, “You weren’t hurt, were you?” When I tell people my own age, they also laugh, but then follow up by saying, “You need to be more careful. That’s how old people break their hips.”