I wasn’t very adventurous as a child, so I don’t have any scars from then. My first scar was obtained when I was eighteen and working at McDonald’s. I slipped on the floor, according to my workmate fell like an immobile teddy bear (still trying to work that one out myself) and landed on the bun toaster. I have two tiny tiny dots on my right arm from this incident, but they’re so faint that even I had to look for them hard just now.
For a few years now, I’ve had a couple of matching scars on both knees. Both received on separate occasions, both received due to a pub I used to frequent most Friday and Saturday nights.
The first one is on my left knee. A group of us had been preloading for a while and were all very merry as a result. We called the pub for the courtesy coach and it wasn’t long before we were on our way. There was singing, laughter and general good times. On the short journey. The coach driver was a bit of a showoff and was trying to impress one of my friends by swerving around the road.
One swerve was particularly violent as we took a right turn and I went flying forward into the seat in front of me and slamming my left knee on the bottom of the chair. It hurt, a lot, despite my intoxication and it put me in an instant bad mood. It wasn’t until we got to the club that I realized that something was jutting out of that chair and had stabbed my knee pretty hard. There was blood everywhere! It took weeks to heal but all I have to show for it now is a small light patch.
The almost matching scar on my right knee happened at the same pub. It wasn’t long after I’d met Zombie. We had gone to the pub, him and his friend to play pool, with my friend Neens (I have no idea why I call her that, I just do. She eventually got used to it) and I who wanted to dance.
Neens and I were having a great time, jumping around the stage, requesting songs and chatting with people. For some reason we ran at the stage and jumped onto it a few times too, not something we had done before, but seemed like a good thing to do at the time.
Until it wasn’t.
Neens was standing in the stage chatting to the DJ when I decided to jump onto the stage again, but this time I missed. My right knee slammed into the stage, I fell onto the stage and ended up sliding around Neens feet in a circle, coming to a stop just before I would have fallen back off the stage.
Apparently it looked hilarious by wow it hurt! I spent the rest of the night nursing my wounds. It wasn’t quite as bloody and nasty as the other incident, but it hurt a lot more and if I remember correctly I limped a bit afterwards. It didn’t take as long to heal, but left an eerily similar scar to the left knee.
I guess the moral of the story is that being drunk doesn’t make you bulletproof. But I’m sure that if I ever get drunk again I’ll forget that moral. Hopefully with less painful consequences though.
Smiles and Sunshine