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For some reason, bridges and water seems to be out to "get me". I seem to have no luck with bridges and water. In Holland, while crossing a bridge I heard a noise in the water. I stopped and slid my stomach up along the bridge parapet and peered over. Unfortunately, I slid up a bit too much and splashed into the lake below. Much to the amusement of the tourists at the castle park there. In England I was running in Cambridge over a small wooden bridge on the River Cam. I was watching the punters (the boaters) and ran right off the edge of the bridge into the river. Much to the amusement of the boaters. Another time in England I was running home (I was assigned to Mildenhall and lived in base housing at Lakenheath, about 5 miles away) and went across a small foot-bridge over a creek. It broke right when I got in the middle. Much to the amusement of the cows in the field. I SWEAR they were laughing at me! In San Antonio I was running along the RiverWalk and noticed a lovely young thing on one of the hotel balconies, wearing only a towel and sipping a glass of wine. So I just had to get my ogling in. Of course, at one point the RiverWalk turns to the right. I didn't. Next thing I was running on air like Wile E. Coyote one minute and then plunging downward (shoulda had a cartoon sign that said "Bye") into the water. Much to the amusement of the drinkers on the porch of Dick's Last Resort. Me and bridges and water. I avoid them whenever possible. |
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