Embarrassing Injuries Part 4: A Combination of Scabs and Black Eyes.

(Part 1, Part 2, and Part 3.  This is the last one. At least until I get hurt again.)

This is the story of what is probably my most famous embarrassing injury.  So here we go.

It all happened one Friday night last November when we decided to have a campus wide game of capture the flag. During the game we went to the RLC to visit and take a break, but when I came out of the building, I was on the other team’s territory.

As I was running down the hill on my way to safety (while being chased), I somehow managed to trip, fall, and hit my head on the pavement.  When I stood up, I could feel blood all over my face, so naturally I screamed bloody murder.

I ripped my shirt, and had blood on my shoes, my shirt, and of course my face.  Blood was coming from my nose and from the scrapes on my forehead and nose.  We went back inside the RLC and tried to clean my face while the little Chinese boys who were there with their parents for bible study stared up at me and exclaimed that I had a hole in my head. Wonderful.  (They also searched for my blood on the road after I left, but I don’t think they ever found it).

After a few minutes, we went back to the dorms to get some band-aids.  I was finally calming down until the RA on duty came by and called 911.  A few minutes later an ambulance showed up and paramedics walked into MEP with a stretcher.  No joke.  All I did was his my head, by of course I started freaking out a little more.

They came in and asked me a few questions, but luckily determined that I was fine and they didn’t need to take me to the hospital.  Thank goodness.

Unluckily, however, I had to wear giant bandages on my head for the next two days.  I wore them when my family came to visit:

I wore them to the BCM jazz dinner, and one of my friends told me it just looked like I was wearing a name tag on my head.  Great.

And I wore them to a concert at the Tabernacle.  The merch guy for the Maine did fist bump me and tell me that I was “bad ass.”  (Pardon my language).  I guess that’s a compliment? That’s not a label I seem to get very often.

But believe me, it got even better.  The next day, I had two black eyes to go along with the scabs on my forehead and nose.  (I had pictures of this, but unfortunately they disappeared when I dropped my blackberry in the toilet.)

I had to tell this story many times over the next few weeks.  Thankfully, the scar has almost disappeared, but I won’t be playing capture the flag again any time soon.

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