Nor did the tragedy occur when my untied shoelace (hurry too much to stop and tie it) caught in the bike chain and my gracious dismount looked like a bike-kristen-pavement sandwich in front of no less than 6 other ladies and 2 sidewalk fixing gentlemen.
No. The real tragedy* occured when we got home and i started to get dressed to go out (finally) to an adult-centered dinner (finally).
I needed bandaids (triage, seriously) for my wounds. Bandaids options: My pick of star wars or toy story themed. My lovely summer dress and heals, a buzz lightyear elbow, and woody on my ankle. Not quite the vision of adultness i had been shooting for. Sad me.
*tragedy in the light hearted sense...clearly. Not meant comparitively to other pressing world matters.