When I was 16 or something like that, I saw a friend hit tiny metal thing with a hammer- BANG!!! As I wondered what that little thing was while listening to the high-pitched ringing of "stupid-induced deafness" in my head, I knew that trouble was brewing and I was going to find out the recipe. My "friends" told me all about how to take the primer out of a shotgun shell or how to empty a .22 bullet to make it safe (I use the word "safe" flippantly here- kind of a tongue-in-cheek thing as you will soon find out why). Anyway, Being the 14 year old genius (another tongue-in-cheek) I soon found the past-time of disabling bullets and hoarding the bang with (what I though was) none of the bite. I took my hoard to scout camp where true idiocy is fully embraced. I wowed my closer friends with a few expert bangs until one bang went super-nova and hot shrapnel entered my hand. Thinking of Monty Python's "Just a flesh wound" explicative, I slapped a band-aid over the puncture wound hoping it was just a rock piece that grazed me because I really had removed the lead bullet so it certainly could not have been the bullet (funny how I never found the primer that day). As you might have now guessed, I found the primer but not until 2 years latter when I couldn't shake the infection in my red and swollen hand. The doctor's eyes grew wide when he saw the x-ray and even wider when he removed the object from my hand and saw it was brass (a bullet shell hiding in a non-vetran is always surprising I guess).
I still remember my parents trying to interrogate me as I drifted in and out of consciousness in the recovery room. I don't know if I ever told them the whole story but the important thing is the scar. It reminds me of the moments that I despise. These are the moments when my forehead gets flatter as I smack it and say "What was I thinking?!" I have that interplay in my head of questioning whether or not I made a dumb mistake or just have a "learning experience" with a proverbial scar to ever remind me the dangers of romanticizing as I was thinking about being where I am today while being shocked with the truth starring me in the face.
Can you see what I smacked my head over?
I should have taken that job in Honolulu...
6 comments:
The weather is the downside of Logan, but we love it here.
I remember you telling me the story of the bullet in your hand and being a LOT more proud of it. . . I guess you WERE still in high school at that point. Ha ha!
my brother has a v shaped scar on his hand from this same i-like-being-a-moron game. why do people always say that girls are harder?
To jessie-
Scars heal and bones fuse back together but emotional baggage that girls deal with endures for years and sometimes never goes away. Ask any girl how she feels about her weight or body shape and when she started to feel this way... Most guys only have stories and a scar to prove it but they don't usually harbor the feelings to go with it.
Well Nick, I learned something I did not know about you. You have endured something pretty painful. Your own fault- but I still sorta felt bad for you!
I'd take emotional baggage over mortal danger.
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