The year was....well, let's just call it 8th grade. I was a cheerleader. (I'll pause while you silently judge me). OK, stop judging me.
It was rodeo weekend and, as tradition in Hamburg, there was the celebratory parade. Parades in a town of barely over 3,000 people are interesting - "floats" often are built out of horse trailers and are pulled by tractors, and cheerleaders ride in the back of trucks and yell about how great their team is, while tossing candy to little kids. So, the Jr. High cheerleaders were riding in the back of our sponsor's truck and her daughter (think 5 year old) was riding in the back with us. She just happened to be RIGHT BEHIND ME when the truck driver gassed it! I, being the non-graceful person that I am, lost my balance and tripped backwards over the little girl who was behind. I did a back flip out of the truck and landed on my rear end on the pavement. Oh yeah - on main street in front of the entire town!
It gets worse...
The horses were right behind us. I sat there stunned for about a millisecond before realizing that I was about to be trampled to death by a Garth Brooks album cover. So I channeled Wonder Woman, leaped up from my throne of shame, sprinted to the truck and cleared the tailgate jumping back into the truck! I spent the rest of the parade hiding under the toolbox of the truck.
