I have a story for you where I got bit. Wasn't a very subtle bite though...
Disclaimer: This story will make me look more like an idiot than my usual babble already does.
So a couple of buddies and I were out longboarding (for those uninitiated, it's like a skateboard, but longer with bigger wheels, and not as oriented toward obnoxious jack-sses). A local college campus has some fun areas to cruise in, so this night, that's precisely what we decided to do.
My lot is rag-tag, but each would die for the other, and we've all been through quite a lot together. One friend is a Marine, back from his third tour, and on his 4 year reserve stretch now. He's a combat trainer in his group and a demolitions expert. My best friend, a world traveler, and Alpaca shearer (yeah, I know) who shares my enthusiasm for minimalism and survival arts. The third, a Navy boy who's out on a short leave, and whom we hadn't seen in some time.
Anyway, my birthday had been a few days ago, and my best friend had his birthday this day, so we had a group and were celebrating together, however the four of us decided to go off on a quick little jaunt around this nearby campus. Minding our own and enjoying each others company in a school parking lot, we noticed a car coming our way, for no apparent reason, seeing as how we were in a dark closed end of the lot, and there were plenty of spots in all parts of it. Marine and I were skating around when these fool (probably drunk) college morons (college is not strictly for the learned) come driving by shouting derogatory remarks at us. They go past toward a roundabout behind us. Marine and I glance at each other, and I instantly know the look on his face. Fun time. We turn around to return the harassment, considering our wit is likely phylums above these troglodytes. Upon our approach, however, one of them swerves to hit my best friend, forcing him to jump from his board to prevent being struck by the oncoming Import Piecacrapwhateveritwas. The car is now headed back in my direction. Heart pumping, I draw my handy SNG in preparation.
It's probably about this time that I should mention I had a beer or two before undertaking this particular jaunt. In any event, failing to check my grip, I sidestep the car, and jam my SNG for all I'm worth into the passing quarter panel of the car. The cheap import's body sheet metal gives way to the finely heat treated, well honed edge of the s30v Strider, but not without resistance. My hand slid up the handle onto the blade (not for any fault of the handle design, but due moreso to the fool holding it), and right back down as I withdrew, not about to leave my nicely customized SNG to the devices of these morons. Nothing registered as being wrong, but I know something must have occurred, having felt my hand ride up the blade. I closed the knife and placed the belt clip back onto my boardshorts, and noticed a fair amount of liquid on my hand...
About this time, I looked up to see the car driving slowly by Marine, probably shouting something stupid out the window. Sadly for them (fun for me), they did not understand to whom they spoke these jeers. Marine dashes as quick as I've seen a man do toward the vehicle. He literally launches himself upon it, catching the edge of the open sunroof, and proceeds to beat senseless the driver and passenger through said opening. Fool1 behind the wheel decides to try taking off, so I watch, cheering as Marine continues, undeterred to deliver just blows from above. Unable to see as his face is being pulverized, Fool1 decides to hit the brakes to prevent from cascading into another car or fence. This gives Marine the opportunity to jump off, and presents him one final opportunity to tag through the driver's side window. The lot screeches off and disappears from sight.
About this time, I realize that that liquid on my hand was blood. A substantial amount of it. In the dark, I can only tell that the wound is sizable. I inform my lot that the time has come for my speedy recall to the house, and we commence a strenuously paced return. Upon arrival, I realize the wound has stopped bleeding, and so I take the opportunity to begin recounting our tale and showing the other guests my war wound. I open my hand and can suddenly see inside of it. Initially, I found this amusing, and was sure to show everyone this new party trick. After a few moments, however, I was hit by a wave of nausea I couldn't understand that quickly led to the evacuation of all of that wonderful drink in which I had earlier partaken. It is a truly amazing and humbling experience to be able to peer into the mechanics of one's own body. Watching the muscle tissues contract and relax is something wholly alien, and gives one a whole new appreciation for that steak they buy for their nightly dinner. Luckily, post-evacuation, my bowels quickly settled, and I returned to normal so as to hear the banter from my friends claiming that I simply had to have the center of attention....sigh. Several steri-strips, a lot of laughs, and an ER visit later, my girlfriend drove me home with 8 stitches across my palm.
What have I learned?
It's good that I buy quality knives.
I should always be sure of my grip.
Blood encourages surface rust.
College denizens are rarely very bright.
Sometimes I'm not very bright.
What did they learn?
Be REALLY careful who you **** with.
P.S.
This is no surprise to most of you, but for those who were worried, the Strider is fine. Not even a mark. Kept that blood on the blade until it wore off. Then cleaned off the ensuing surface rust.
