i knew it was bound to happen eventually; falling onstage is practically a mathematical certainty. frankly, i was surprised it had yet to happen...but after 2 years, 5 months, and 12 days in the business, i did it. i checked that box.
i fell onstage.
not just on "stage", which implies that there's only one--oh no, i fell on STAGE. like, on the big, shiny, main stage, about 5 seconds after i was announced, and not even twirling.
no, i was not attempting a super-extra-double-hard move on the international ho-bag degree of difficulty scale. i was not spinning, kicking, sliding, sashaying, or what the fuck ever--i was walking. walking. in new shoes. i blamed--and will continue to blame--the shoes. what the hell made me think it was okay to suddenly graduate to a platform, albeit a single inch? who approved the decommissioning of my training wheels? and who let me go up after i jinxed myself by telling the ladies in the dressing room that i was "not going to fall in the new shoes"? (uh huh, i said that. about 15 seconds before i fell.)
(oh yeah, right--nobody. because i'm an independent contractor, and i answer to no one! how silly of me to forget.)
but hey, it could have been worse: the club could have been 90% full (it was more like 75%--and they all stopped talking at once, lemme tell ya); i could have hurt myself, or fallen off the stage (as it happened, i went down rather gracefully onto a knee. i have not a bruise to show for it. too bad); i could have not been a good sport (i raised my arms in victory, received applause); and i could have been ignored afterwards--but suddenly the edge filled up with my girlfriends laughing at me and high fiving me, and pleasant customers cracking jokes (and everyone gave me money. the "pity tips" actually made for a damn good take on an early-evening stage set, for me at least).
so i changed into my backup shoes, resolved to teeter around my apartment in the new ones for another few weeks before i have the guts to sport them at work (emphasis on the sport, of course), and went about my shift. hell, at least they have nifty chrome heels, it'll give me greater incentive to train myself to wear them again. because everything i own would be chrome, if i had the cash.
in the end, my silver shoe debacle did garner a monumental silver lining: it was the final kick in the ass to start the stripper blog i've been meaning to begin for months. hooray for clumsy catalysts! hopefully my next entry will be about how i shattered my record income for a single shift.
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i've been fascinated by strippers ever since kids started calling me a slut in high school. after reading their lit and watching them gyrate for 10 years, i started a grad program in women's studies, went to a sex worker's conference, and decided to take the plunge for myself. five years later, i have an M.A., and am about to quit dancing. but for now, i write.
stuff i like!
Nice. Good thing there weren't any goldfish in your shoes. They'd be dead now, and it would be your fault. You'd be guilty of fishicide by shoe.
ReplyDeleteWell you now have that under you belt and the fear is gone.
ReplyDelete"Pity Tips" should be in the Urban Dictionary(.com).
ReplyDeleteGood form, Peter Pan. ;)
falling during walking is great entertainment. im sure no one felt sorry for you, being physically far superior no matter what.
ReplyDeletedidn't madonna fall recently? it's about time.
my old pts fall often, and i spend time thinking about falling. i walk over all kind of terrain that is iffy all over dallas and off road too in some yards wondering if i will fall just because of my pts bringing it up; it isn't a fear. I also compare it to all the falling i do while doing sports. Yay for sports w/ lots of falls!
chrome shoes sound fantastic. i think the ones i've seen have too long a heel for me.
ReplyDeletei borrowed my stripper roommate's shoes once for a wedding. the were some of the most expensive shoes i've tried on and i couldn't walk in them; they had to be carried to my seat.
bravo, bravo, I can take out your shoes if you need me too. I know people who kill shoes, for a small fee.
ReplyDeleteI had a moment kind of like that.
ReplyDeleteIt was my first time to DJ at Numbers in Houston, and the next afternoon I bought a really dope pair of platform heels at Dare Ware
That night, I had been invited to this annual fetish birthday party at an old fire station. So, I wore my new platform heels. I didn't expect brick floors.
The DJ that evening got on the mic, and said (among other things) some props to me. I took one step forward, hit a groove in the brick that must have twisted my foot in an awkward manner because the sole of my brand new shoes broke across the arch and sent me falling to the floor.
So much for those shoes.
Glad you didn't hurt yourself. I'm envious of your pity tips. I had to spend the rest of my night barefoot, and the owner of the store (who was witness to my fall) refused to do a return or exchange on the shoes, so I was out the cost of some patent leather platform heels.
one time i had to teach a bunch of kindergarteners or something to brush their teeth. my classmates did well in their talk, i sounded nervous and the kids applauded me a lot. a pity applause. it was nice of them.
ReplyDelete