night time anytime it's alright...

so i'm walking home from work, it's rush hour, la la la. shaking my ass down the sidwalk, paying no attention to anything around me, when i snap out of my beautiful-day-induced trance and realize i'm about to plunge feetfirst into freshly poured wet cement. i go "aaahhh!" (if you know me, you'll recognize that trademark jessie scream) and try to regain my balance, but alas it is too late. a guy who was walking beside me looks over from where he had walked AROUND the barricade that i had somehow managed to squeeze through and goes "oh my god! what did you do??" and starts laughing. i am horrified and remove my delicately-sandalled manicured foot from the 4 or so inches of wet cement that i had just put it in. from across the street a construction worker, alerted by my squeals, shouts at me "what did you do!!" and i yelp "oh my god, i'm so sorry!!!" my face is bright red, i've never been so embarrassed! the construction worker, laughing, yells "hey bob, look what she did!" and from around the corner comes bob and about 10 other contruction workers, who have just finished pouring the cement i stepped in and are now working on another patch. they all look at me in confusion. bob goes "are you ok? didn't you, uh, see the barricade?" because of course like the wonderful contruction workers they are, they had erected a bright orange colored barricade across the length of the sidewalk to prevent people from walking through their cement. i, being a complete BIMBO didn't even notice the barricade and had somehow squeezed between it and a wall. i reassure bob that yes, i'm ok, and again i'm so sorry for wrecking their work. bob says it's ok, but that cement is very corrosive and bad for bare skin and that i need to get it off my feet asap. so despite my protests my city worker friends escort me across the street to their truck, where they take out a pail of water. two of the construction workers prop me up between them while bob gets on his knees before my and proceeds to delicately and gently wash my feet. he takes my "little slippers" (as he calls them) off and rinses them, then towels my feet dry. "hey guys, these are soft feet!" he tells his coworkers, who are looking mighty pleased with the whole situation. he offers me a massage, i politely decline. i thank them for their help, they smile some more and shake their heads (crazy chicks these days) and i hang my head and run along home, swearing to always, ALWAYS pay attention to where i'm walking!!! thinking back, i realize that i'm probably lucky i'm a girl, or else i'm sure i would have had quite a different reaction. i wonder if construction workers all over town now set up similar "traps" so that they can all share the experience of washing young girls' feet.