Hussein stops for gas on the way, and I jump out to run into the shell station for cigarettes. As I begin to sprint across the forecourt, I remember that I am wearing stiletto heels. Because I am a prideful ass, instead of reducing my speed and walking, I keep trying to run. Predictably after a few increasingly unsteady steps, my ankle goes out completely and I fall over, landing my knees before dropping onto my face and skidding to a stop.
The entire forecourt goes silent, and then breaks out in hysterical laughter. Head down, I stand up, ignore the screaming pain from my ankle and knees, purchase my cigarettes, and carefully walk back to Hussein, who is still sitting behind the wheel laughing.
Hussein: Are you (laughter, gasping for air) Are You (Wiping tears away) all right?
Me: I'm fine but I feel like a total knob.
Hussein: Yeah, you are not very good at being a girl. Like not good at all. (peals of laughter)
On the bright side, the presentation went ok.