About halfway down the stairs, I slipped. I failed to grab the railing, and everything slowed down as I dived headfirst toward the girl sitting on the bottom step and the concrete beyond. Sailing through the air I had lots of time to determine that there wasn't a thing I could do to stop myself. Then time sped up for the whole landing bit (for which I'm rather grateful), and I found myself on my back staring up at a circle of concerned faces.
You know those after school specials and anti-drug commercials that show a someone collapsing on the dance floor, and everyone dances right over their spasming body without so much as a glance? Don't believe it for a second. I don't think that happens anywhere, but if it does it's sure not in the rave scene. It was quite an effort to assure everyone that I was ok, and fend off offers of help. One girl even insisted that I take her water. I didn't really want it, but there's no use fighting a raver who believes that bottled water is the magical elixir that cures all ails.
Now, the part where I landed is all a bit of a blur, and I'm not clear on the mechanics of it. But my injuries tell an interesting story. There's a little teeny scratch on my forehead, a cluster of scrapes and bruises on the back of my left shoulder, a pretty big bruise the outside of my left arm between my elbow and shoulder, a small scrape on my hip near the hipbone, and a really big scab on my left knee. Oh, and of course a pretty gnarly purple and black bruise to my pride.
Given this information, I can only imagine that I did a rather comical somersault, hitting just about every bit that was sticking out on the way. Luckily, I appear to have come out of the situation without a concussion, and no one I knew was around to see it, which I think is the best I can hope for.