Yes, I know we've (almost) all been there, right?
It was so white and fluffy and fresh. And get this, I am STILL that girl who will get snow by the cupful and snarf it back with a spoon in front of the TV. It's a great low calorie snack!
However, when you are young and don't know that your tongue will stick to the metal railing, it's not so fun. And snow mixed with a layer of tongue and a whole lot of blood not surprisingly does not taste very good either.
So, anyway. There I am a few doors down from the school, standing at my front door waiting for my mom (how is it that when I tell this story NO ONE wonders how my mom could lock me out of the house on a horribly cold winter day...?) and decided to have a nice white snack.
As I was running my tongue along the deep snow, thoroughly enjoying myself, I found my tongue suddenly wouldn't move along anymore. I pulled a little bit. Okay, I pulled a lot. And if you've known me for long, you know that I am not one to call attention to myself or do anything under the sun to make myself look like a fool. (It takes an awful lot of work too, I must add!)
Instead of screaming to get someone's attention, or patiently waiting for my mom and risk having people see me stuck to the railing, I just ripped my tongue away from the railing.
I lost an entire layer of my tongue. (It was a full-tongue railing lick!!)
And then, suddenly, I didn't mind looking like a fool. Or as the British would say, a "bloody fool". With blood pouring out of my tongue, I screamed for all I was worth.
Brad's older sister happened to be walking home and heard me screaming and came to rescue me. She took me back to the school and straight into the office.
They cleaned me up the best they could and asked me what happened.
They said, "Rhonda, did you touch your tongue to any metal??"
"Rhonda, are you sure?"
Somehow I don't think they believed me. But they found my mom, who came to get me and took me home.
My poor, poor self.