Food Blogger Slips on Banana Peel, Recounts
Yesterday, I did something putatively commonplace that was, at the same time, a thing I was convinced I never would do.
At age 36, I finally slipped on a banana peel. The one pictured at right, specifically.
Heel met peel as I exited my car on the way to school. The peel had been sitting in the road, lurking silently next to where I parked, just underfoot my driver’s side door.
Luckily, as I stepped on the banana and lurched backwards, my car broke what might have been my fall. (As you can see by the dark streak trailing the peel, my heel dragged it about a foot; my equal and opposite reaction sent me back the same.) I instantly thought that I’d stepped in dog crap–something I’ve done (unintentionally) countless times.
But no. I looked down. It was a banana peel. Left there by someone. Tossed, perhaps. Browned, and bereft of fruit.
If you’re like me, you see banana peels lying in wait for you from time to time. Maybe once every couple of years. When I see them I smile and walk around them, or over. They are there as if to gain our acknowledgment, to register something with us, and to be avoided. With less berth warranted than, say, a poisonous jellyfish on beach sands.
And so, a warning: banana peels are slippery; do not step on one.
Wikipedia describes banana slippage in pop-culture-historical terms here.
Wondering about how many people have actually slipped on a banana? A recent, small, unscientific message board poll found that 10% of respondents had slipped on a peel. Other (even) less formal message board polling here and here.
How about you? Ever slipped on a banana? Or seen someone else do so?
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Jackson
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Dana
