On a recent routine shopping trip, we came across one of those large cardboard boxes full of watermelons that are put in place with a forklift. A melon seemed like a nice summertime treat, so we decided to get one.
I waited patiently while my wife studiously did the knock test on several melons to identify which was the ripest, most delicious one to choose.
She settled on one at the bottom of the front corner of the partially full container. Then it was my turn to do the lifting.
I had to move one other watermelon out of the way to clear the path.
Then I suddenly burst out laughing as realized what was happening: the distance over the side of the cardboard box and the weight of the chosen melon combined to reach the point where my balance was in jeopardy.
I almost – emphasis on almost – fell into the watermelon box.
I stopped to regroup, both physically and mentally; then successfully retrieved the object of our desire, and we were on our way.
On the way home though, we enjoyed even bigger laughs, recalling what might have been, had I actually fallen in.
We would have wanted to track down the store manager and ask to see the surveillance video, and even get a copy of it to post on social media. It would have been a viral hit.
I also knew that beyond the falling in, the process of getting out would have been even more hilarious.
We wondered about what other shoppers and store employees might have thought. Would it have been something unique, or do old people tumble into the watermelon bins a couple times a week? “Oh, it’s just another one.”
By the way, the melon was delicious. It would have been worth it.
