I put my trust in elevated surfaces and they let me down

Sometimes parties can get a tad repetitive: A hot room packed with sweaty people and Justin Bieber’s “Sorry” blasting through the speakers. But every so often, you go to a party, outfit on point, surprisingly not sweating like a hog in the overcrowded basement, elevated surfaces stacked with precision, and you are just feeling it.

Whenever this happens, my dancing-self emerges like a werewolf during the full moon and I’ll dance like no one’s watching. But sometimes busting a move can also result in busting your ass — beware, I know this from experience.

On this particular night, my friend from home was visiting, so naturally I wanted her to have as much fun as possible and give her a taste of the Umich spirit. As we hit the dance floor, I was feeling really good: wearing my favorite shirt, chatting it up with friends, and overall in my element. Feeling a little over-confident, I hopped up on the elevated surface (a raised platform on which a 5’3’’ shorty like myself thrives) and proceeded to shake my tail feather.

Because I was too busy being the life of the party, I wasn’t paying attention to my immediate surroundings, or in this case, where the platform ended. I took one step backward, missing the edge of the platform, and promptly fell — right on my butt. I was so distracted by the extreme embarrassment that consumed me, I didn’t even realize how badly my butt actually hurt.

After retreating to the bathroom and recovering my wounded pride from my shameful fall, I got back on the dance floor, willing myself to take my friend’s advice and just “shake it off.” Trying to redeem myself, I hopped on the surface again… only to repeat the same fateful spill. No, I’m not kidding.

Only then did I realize the extent of my injury — I mean, my backside really  hurt. Not only is it embarrassing as hell to fall twice in front of a crowd, but having to admit you “broke your butt” from said falls brings things to a new level. If you assumed after my second tumble I retreated permanently to the bathroom for the rest of the evening, you’d be correct.

Waking up the next morning wasn’t much better: the soreness had set in and I was suffering from horrible back spasms. I spent the next two weeks waddling around like a penguin, lying on my stomach, and debating buying one of those donut-shaped pillows from Walgreens to sit on. Not being able to sit in a chair without cringing was less than ideal. And to make matters worse, I had to cope with the emotional trauma of knowing I broke my butt dancing at a party, not like, saving a puppy from an oncoming car or something.

Though the pain has lessened substantially, it’s been a full month-and-a-half and I am still on the mend with a bruised tailbone. It’s an embarrassing story to relive, but I knew I had to confess to warn my fellow dancing queens about the true dangers of elevated surfaces — I’ll never look at one the same.

I’m sure you can pop, lock, and drop it as well as any, but please make sure you don’t pop, lock, and drop your ass on the floor, because no matter how into the Biebs you are, the floors will never be “sorry.”