I titled this diary as a Storytime diary in honor of a special friend who wrote a number of Storytime diaries back in the late 2000’s. (The search I constructed did not find all of hers, for whatever reason. I think she wrote 36 of them in total. And others have used the storytime tag since then, which is fine, of course.)
I wrote it in response to a social media challenge from one of my friends. Here is how she expressed it:
Curious (because that’s how I roll). What is something you’ve done or experienced that you’re pretty sure no one else on my friend’s list has done or experienced?
So, here is my story.
In 1976 I was an American student in what was then West Germany. It was a fascinating time, not least because of tensions from our country’s recent involvement in Viet Nam, which was not popular.
I was a member of a nine student group studying in a marvelous medieval town with a vibrant university. We had a group leader who was only a few years older than us, but who had been in country for seven years, and who spoke the best German I ever heard from an American with no native roots. She was not a large woman, perhaps five feet tall and a hundred pounds, but she was great fun and she had the spirit of a lioness. I mention her because of the role she will play in this story.
It was very difficult as Westerners to see more of East Germany than could be seen and experienced in East Berlin, due to the wall between the two countries. Anyone could travel to Berlin (by air, by train or by motorcoach, or by auto given strict rules, as students, we had no cars), but no divergence from set corridors and routines were permitted, so you couldn’t go out into the country. Beyond that, travel into East Germany was only possible if trips were coordinated through one of three or four travel agencies authorized to schedule those. Our group leader arranged a trip for us. A couple of weeks before the scheduled trip, I was playing basketball with a German team I had joined, and I turned my ankle very badly, tearing a ligament in my right ankle. I was taken to hospital, x-rayed, and placed in a full-leg cast that came to my hip. When transported back to my dormitory, two very large guys carried me up four flights of stairs to my room.
A few days later discussion was held about my participation in the trip to Weimar, Leipzig and Dresden. It was going to include a stop at the concentration camp in Buchenwald, outside Weimar. They told me I couldn’t go. I told them I did not know HOW, but I WAS going on that trip. So, they conferred some more and made a plan. My cast was removed and changed into a cast called a walking cast, that had a heel built in to the bottom, and it came to below my knee. Though it had a heel, I was not to put weight on it under any circumstances, until after more healing happened.
Then, arrangements were made with the international Red Cross for wheelchairs at all of stops in East Germany, and I used crutches on the trains and in between times when wheelchairs weren’t available.
The trip was everything I had hoped for and more, one of the most remarkable experiences of my life. But the trip itself isn’t what I am writing about as unique.
When we got to Dresden, I was given one of the coolest wheelchairs I had ever seen. (Motorized wheelchairs were not common then, and I don’t recall ever having seen one to that point in my life, though I expect they existed.) The wheelchair I was given had pneumatic tires, and it had two rods attached to a cam that drove the wheels, so you could pump it for forward and reverse movement, self-propulsion. At the top of one of the rods was a handle I could hold in one hand and turn left or right to steer the chair. It was really nice to be able to propel myself, and the chair kept up with walking friends quite well. It was also cool in that, you could be going forward, and then lock the rods with your arms and stop on a dime. I really liked that.
Well, we went to a square somewhere near the Zwinger Museum in Dresden. As I recall, we were at an elevated position on the square, overlooking an open area that could be accessed via a long concrete stairway. I thought it would be cool to jet up to the edge and stop quickly to look out over the expanse. Alas, if, when stopping quickly, the rods were not precisely centered, you could inadvertently nudge the chair in one direction or the other, instead of stopping precisely.
Sure enough, smartass here zoomed up to the edge, and, instead of stopping, nudged himself over the edge of what I remember as about 30 quite steep steps. Down I went, certain that I would fall out of the chair to my death, however many steps below, wheelchair crashing over my head. I careened downward, holding on for dear life. I knew I’d snap my leg the rest of the way off and break my neck in the bargain. But, miracle of miracles, I rode it all the way to the bottom of the stairs without coming out of the wheelchair.
I was in a state of shock when I stopped, and everyone within miles of the square was staring in amazement at this stunt performed by the idiot American in a cast and a wheelchair.
Our group leader sprinted up to me, apoplectic in anger at what I had done. She started in on me: THAT WAS THE STUPIDEST THING I HAVE EVER SEEN IN MY LIFE!
I snapped around to look at her in astonishment: You don’t think that I MEANT to do that!
She recognized the honesty of my spontaneous reaction, so she calmed down and didn’t take my head off or insist on my expulsion from our group, followed by immediate transport back to the US.
In any case, I survived the experience, and I didn’t kill myself. Neither did I pee my pants, but I did feel adrenalized and disbelieving for a few days afterward.
I can’t imagine anyone on your friend’s list (or mine, or theirs) will have had an experience like that. But it really happened.
Thanks for reading. What novel experiences have you had that you would like to share?