I am my own worst enemy

Background story #1:
Sometime during my junior year in college, my buddies and I seriously got into tennis. So serious that we were actually playing 2-3 sets a day everyday (though it lasted for only a week, but that is a major achievement for us lazy bums). Considering I once represented my junior high in a national tennis tournament, I had a bit of air about me being the best tennis player in our group.
We were playing doubles, and I was serving to this guy, who is overweight and has never hold a tennis racket in his life. I gave him a considerably soft serve, knowing he would not be able to return it otherwise. However, through sheer beginner’s luck, he returned my serve so perfectly that I stopped on my track momentarily before running after the ball. For some reason, I was in shock a little longer than I realized, and before I knew it, the ball hit my crotch. At 120 miles an hour.
I could only imagine how painful it must have been for guys to be hit between the legs until that day. That day, I experienced such immense pain that I could do nothing but keeled over and lay on the ground in a fetal position. I tried not to cry, because there’s no crying in tennis. From that day onwards, I stop underestimating overweight dudes.

2. Background story #2:
Also sometime during junior year at college, we trashed IU in the most humiliating manner at Ross Aide. The student section was just living it up, throwing cups and abuse at the IU bench, and this guy decided to rush the field. Needless to say, the cops were on him immediately. Five minutes after this kid got arrested, the players went up to the student section and started pulling us down to the field. The cops could not be bothered to arrest all of us so they let us roam free on the field. I’m quite sure that kid who rushed and got arrested is still kicking himself for not waiting for another five minutes. It’s almost tragic.
Anyway, we were happily walking on the field, after all, this was our first and last time rushing Ross Aide, and I was happily chatting away as I normally do. The next section of this story is verbatim from my buddy KY: I was just walking and pretending to listen to you (KY is a guy, obviously) when suddenly I didn’t hear your voice anymore. I got worried because you probably noticed I was half-listening and had gotten mad at me, so I turned to look at you. Only I couldn’t find you. I looked around me, and you were nowhere to be seen. Then somehow I decided to look down, and there you were, flat on the ground. The funny thing is, there was nothing anywhere near us that would trip you and make you fall. So how the hell did you end up there?
My answer: there was a TV cable, and by the time KY saw me on the ground, the TV crew had gone elsewhere along with the cable. Of course no one ever buys my story of the phantom cable. But I swear, that was what tripped me.

Background story #3:
I was living in Beijing, and it was fall. I had the urge to eat instant noodles, so I boiled some water. As I was pouring the water into the bowl of instant noodles using my left hand, for reason that is beyond my own understanding, my right hand decided it needed washing. So, I burned my own hand. Despite having put my injured hand under running water for minutes till my fingers turned pruny, gigantic blisters still formed on the middle and ring fingers, and my pinky. What did I do next? I consulted Dr. Peng online and checked WebMd.com. So the next day I went to get some needles and sterile solution, I was going to do it the GI Jane way and treat my own burnt fingers. As long as I kept everything clean, I would be all right.
However, I had a vision of my own clumsiness doing more damage to my already damaged fingers. My overactive imagination started imagining things like what happened if I got myself infected? I was in Beijing after all! The air alone carries so much dirt and germs. So, I let myself be persuaded to see a local doctor at our school’s hospital by my Beijing crew. They were worried for me, but at the same time found the whole thing very entertaining. (Prior to burning my fingers, I tripped over a stool and fell at a club, then a week later, I sprained my ankle). They escorted me to the hospital, which could very well have come out from a Stephen King’s novel. I can’t even begin to describe how delipidated the building was, and how could I even trust that they would do a better job than me using a sewing needle to pop my blisters?
An old Chinese doctor saw me and was shocked at the size of my blisters. He then took a syringe and used it to pop my blisters (see, I could’ve done this at the comfort of my own apartment) . I was in so much fear of the hygiene in this hospital that I started crying. My friends thought I was being overly dramatic; I was at first, but the old Chinese doctor also poked my healthy flesh with the syringe while draining my blister. My limited Chinese was not adequate enough to tell this old guy that his eyesight was failing him and that he was now hurting me more. So I just cried. And he patted my shoulder, telling me “Bie ku le.” (= don’t cry). I would stop crying if you took that needle out of my healthy finger! But he was old and he was nice to me, so I forgave him in the end.
I can still see the faint marks on my fingers from this misadventure that started from a craving for an instant noodle. I use oven gloves now more often in the kitchen.

Why I am writing this post:
I fell down a few days ago at the parking lot. If you ask me how I fell, I’d tell you that there was a TV cable. Truth is, I tripped over my own foot. Luckily, no one was around, but like Sis B said, there probably was an old auntie sitting behind a wheel who saw me trip and fall and started laughing at me in the safety of her car.
Then today, I tripped myself twice and nearly fell. Thankfully I did not fall. Had I fallen the first time, I would probably be needing another 7 stitches on my eyebrows. Had I fallen the second time, I would have lost my two front teeth.
I tried to analze how I could possible tripped myself THREE times.
Conclusion: my obsession for wide leg pants. On both days, I am wearing wide leg pants with folded cuffs. Apparently, my pointy shoes tend to get themselves caught on these cuffs. Hence tripping me over. Note to self: pair wide leg pants with round toe shoes.

If you know anyone who is a bigger hazard to themselves, please let me know. I would love to compare stories.