Short end of the stick
by Pete Cunningham
*Submitted for publication to the New College Window, 4/1/2003

“Man I’m lucky.  My sister has a huge nose, as a kid she had to have braces, plus, she had to wear those thick ole glasses.  She really got the short end of the stick.”  These were the words of my friend Caiti Riley.  It sounds cocky, maybe even a little bit cynical.  To me these words are hilarious, and it made light of a very serious situation at the time. 

Caiti is not like any other girl I’ve ever known.  She’s sure of herself, brash, speaks her mind, and will be the first person to call you on your BS.  In addition to all of this, there’s another characteristic Caiti possesses that makes her stand out from the crowd.   Caiti only has one leg. 

Caiti didn’t just say these words out of the blue one day when we were sitting around ragging on her sister.  Caiti had come to visit me over her spring break, and I figured I’d show my shopping obsessed friend the heart of Toronto.  The night she arrived however we encountered a bit of a dilemma, her leg broke.  That’s right, Caiti had traveled all the way from Raleigh, North Carolina to go to a few clubs, do some shopping, and drink her self stupid, but had her experience hindered by a slight problem, the absence of a left foot. 

The day she arrived we were walking down the street and out of no where BAM, prosthetic foot separated from prosthetic leg.  She was about as close to being up the creek without a paddle as I have ever seen someone.  My old roommate, after recovering from the trauma that accompanies seeing someone’s foot disconnect from their leg without knowing the intricate details of the situation, hailed a cab while Caiti called her mom.  After the ensuing conversation with her mother, Caiti looked at me in disbelief and said what any girl who had lost her foot thousands of miles from home in the middle of the street would say, “Oh my God Pete!  I can’t believe I just said the f-word to my mom.”

Caiti eventually recovered from the insurmountable guilt she felt from uttering the mother of all swears to her own mother, and we began to concentrate on the task at hand.  She hopped into the taxi, Long John Silver style, and added another chapter to this Toronto cab driver’s book on crazy stuff he’d never seen before in his life (scheduled to be released next month.)  We went back to my dorm and taped the foot onto the leg so that Caiti could get around on crutches reasonably well.  I don’t mean to brag or anything, but give me some duct tape and a little time, and I’ll get Guns N’ Roses to stick together. 

After waking up in the morning and getting an athletic trainer to fix my terrible tape job, Caiti and I were off to the mall.  As if nothing had even happened to her the night before, Caiti was all smiles at the sight of a five story mall that spanned across two subway stations.  We hit just about every store in that mall.  Didn’t buy a thing, but hey, we were there.  The shopping was far from over.  Upon receiving a hot tip from a fellow Air Force Ones collector, Caiti and I hit Younge Street to get the word on the latest street wear.  This is where Caiti’s sister, Rhiannon, came into the conversation. 

Caiti had mentioned to me that her ex-boyfriend had told her that he liked the Cleveland Indians logo because the huge nose on Chief Wahoo reminded him of her (and people say chivalry is dead.)  Caiti then proceeded to rag on Rhiannon and commented about her nose, the braces, and the whole “short end of the stick” thing.  I couldn’t help but laugh. 

Here Caiti was, slipping on ice patches, hopping up and down handicap unfriendly subway terminals, with nothing but a little tape and a lot of willpower keeping her foot and leg connected (in other words enjoying a dream vacation) commenting about how lucky she was. 

As I sat there and thought about what she had said, I came to realize the amount of truth in her statement.  No, I didn’t just realize how much bigger Rhiannon’s nose was than Caiti’s.  I realized how unfortunate anyone without Caiti’s attitude truly was.  People are so often complaining about how bad they’ve got it, or how they’ve been screwed one way or the other.  I myself, the day before Caiti had arrived, was whining about how my recently injured ankle was hurt again and how much of a hassle it was.  Then there’s Caiti, who has been through more in her life than I ever would wish upon anyone, who doesn’t bat an eyelash to the most serious of problems.  Well Caiti, you’re right.  Rhiannon did get the short end of the stick, and so did everybody else.