Only two minutes.

I am not talking pillow talk.

I am referring to two minutes out of my life yesterday.

I was walking up a hill by the Central Park baseball fields and I started to fall over…there felt like there was a person on my back.

The voice saying, “I’m Sorry” was familiar, but I was too concerned with landing on my new hip to have a chat with Helen Hunt so I brushed myself off and kept climbing.

Later, I thought I should have challenged Hunt to a game of pickleball as redemption as she just played the part of a TV executive on Hacks and was an obsessed pickleball player. BTW, Hacks is all kinds of fabulosity.

20 seconds later I crossed the road in the Park with a Walk sign and a biker who was probably clocking 40mph almost hit me as his leg brushed my back. A few years ago a woman was hit by a biker and died in the same spot.

I get to the other side turned right and frantically witnessed two NYC cops running at full speed towards me screaming, “Get down and put your hands up!”

Holy crap what did I do and what do I do?

Before I dropped (I was in white linen and needed to quickly access the pros and cons of hitting the dirt path) I heard a man a step behind me with an accent yelling, “I dropped it. I’m clean!”

The vertically challenged man came up next to me and dropped.

That saved me from pooping in my white linen pants and ruining my new purchase.

Probably two of the strangest moments in my life.

I arrived home, checked my physical and emotional state at the door and called my husband regarding meeting for a well deserved martini.

It might take 2 martinis to assess and assuage the damage?