A whole new ring-losing scenario I’d never considered before

The new issue of the Medill alumni magazine collects memories of the school’s Washington program, in celebration of the program’s 50th anniversary. Of the anecdotes, the best comes from a man named David Dees, MSJ ’81:

The Medill program was located in an old office building, on the
ninth floor (I think). By late spring, the weather was warm and our
office had no air-conditioning so we kept the windows open. I was
the only married student in my group. My wife, Sherri Sandow
Dees, was back in Evanston working on her master’s in music
performance. I got to joking that the only reason I was married
was that I couldn’t remove my wedding ring. To prove my point,
I shook my hand to one side, once, twice, then whoosh, the ring
flew from my sweaty finger, over my neighbor’s desk, against a sill,
and out the window before plummeting to the busy sidewalk.
Bursting onto the sidewalk, I counted up the floors and across
the windows to locate the window. Then I scanned back down the
drab brick wall to the sidewalk. No ring. I ran into the street. I ran
across the street and back again. I looked under parked cars and
moving cars. I looked under pedestrians. Then I looked up the
sidewalk to see a metal grate covering a subterranean labyrinth. I
was sure that my ring had bounced, rolled or been kicked into the
abyss.

By this time, an elevator load of my classmates had joined the
search. Soon, one of them, a woman whose name I have long
since forgotten, approached me. “Is this it?” she asked calmly,
holding up the ring. I was too astonished to say, “What do you
mean ‘Is this it?’ How many gold bands do you expect to find on
the sidewalk this afternoon?” I don’t think I said anything, but
instead grabbed her and kissed her right on the mouth.

The impact left the ring less than round, and I gradually gained
too much weight to wear it anymore. But fortunately, nearly 35
years later, I still have the same ring–and the same wife.

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