I can't remember how this story came up the other day, but when it did I knew it needed to be shared with y'all.
Once upon a time when I was... I don't know... maybe 8 and my sister was 6. We were walking in a parade of sorts through downtown. My dad being the kind, loving and ornery dad that he was/is decided to tell me about the lady that had fallen through a bridge.
The real life story had something to do with a drawbridge, but he didn't tell me that part. He just said to be careful because the bridge that was in our parade route was partially grated. So naturally I am freaking out.
And I mean Freaking. Out.
But I'm the big sister so, I'm trying to act as cool as possible to save face. As we make our way closer and closer to the bridge I couldn't believe the adults weren't worried about this at all and were going to let us just walk across the bridge of death.
Finally the moment of truth....
The grated part.
I grab my sister's hand and I tell her to be very careful to not step through the holes. Wait a second.... our feet are bigger than the holes, and there's no way our whole body will fit through there to fall in that water. Huh. But dad wouldn't make something like that up, so it must still be dangerous. Yep. Definitely dangerous. I'm pretty sure I prayed the whole way across. After what seemed like forever we made it across the bridge. We lived!! Phew!
I'm pretty sure this is why I'm afraid of heights and bridges.