I was stabbed at a concert last night

Yeh, no kidding. I suffered a somewhat deep knife wound last night. 
 
However, the actual story isn't nearly as exciting as the caption above might suggest. More embarrassing, really, as the wound was self-inflicted and accidental. The puncture went into muscle and no organs were damaged, and no major arteries were severed.
 
I'd gone to a local food and music festival with my daughter and grand-daughter to see a Beatles tribute band, and to pig out on greasy fair food. As one might expect, I arrived in the proper frame of mind for overindulgence in food and music. Hey, it's perfectly legal here in my state.
 
You've no doubt attended these kinds of fairs, which are populated with booths where sad-looking salesmen sit forlornly trying to sell hot tubs and vinyl siding, or slightly more interesting tie-died shirts and wind chimes. One of these booths was selling high-end kitchen knives. You might see where this story is headed...
 
The barker was extolling the features of his finely-crafted cutlery, showing how perfectly balanced the knives were in his hand. I was thinking that the sharp points on them would make them perfect for a knife-throwing circus act. He handed one of them to me so I could feel its heft and balance. It was a rather large and heavy knife, perhaps 10 inches in length. What its use might be in the kitchen, I could not imagine, but I suppose one might employ it for skinning a large animal in the back yard.
 
Not wanting to disappoint the demonstrator, I balanced it on my finger as he was doing. However, the pivot point I chose was not the knife's center of gravity, and it rolled forward, tip down, away from my hand and fell. Straight into my thigh, where it lingered momentarily before clattering to the street. I made a quick joke about having to buy it if I broke it and backed away from the booth.
 
As we walked around the grounds making an inventory of all the junk food booths prior to selecting our supper, my pants began to feel wet and sticky inside. It occurred to me that the knife incident may have drawn blood, but I couldn't see any blood - at first.
 
I bought an enormous grilled sausage piled high with sauerkraut, jalapenos, relish, ketchup and mustard, and found a seat in front of the bandstand, where the featured act was setting up. Delighted at seeing authentic guitars being tuned up, including a left-handed Hofner, Ricks and Vox amps, I quickly forgot about the knife incident.
 
Then I looked down at my thigh and thought "oh hell, I've dripped ketchup on my pants".  I went to dab it with a serviette, which came away dripping crimson. Not ketchup. Oh, I thought, I should probably self-administer some first aid, lest I stain something.
 
My grand-daughter produced a band-aid, but I'd need to drop my drawers in order to apply it. The Port-a-Pottie was pretty dark inside, so when I got a look at my leg it was like a scene from a dimly-lit horror movie. Half my leg was covered in blood and my jeans were thoroughly soaked - but being black in color, the blood just looked like spilled hot dog condiments.
 
Worse, the blood was still flowing profusely an hour after the accident. I wondered how much longer it would be before it stopped, and began estimating how much of the concert I'd be able to hear before I blacked out from blood loss. 
 
Realizing the band-aid wasn't up to the task, I set out to find a first-aid station. Such festivals are required to have one, right? Well, no. There was a booth for the local fire district, manned by an actual fireman. But he had no bandages in his first-aid bag. Fortunately, a local hospital was handing out little first-aid kits, so I went back to the Port-a-Pottie, stacked multiple band-aids over the wound and returned to my delicious Bratwurst heart-attack-in-a-bun.
 
The rest of the evening was uneventful. I had a hot fudge sundae and enjoyed a decent Beatles tribute act whose efforts were sadly thwarted by an absolutely dreadful live mix. I kept looking back at the mix booth to see if there was actually a human being sitting there. There was, but he was either totally inept or just there to prevent musicians from stealing the cables.
 
This morning I was able to evaluate the injury, and it now looks trivial. A 1/2-inch long puncture wound, easily covered by a single band-aid. The black jeans went into the washer and all's well. But I won't be digging out my knives today to compare them against those fine utensils I saw at the fair. 
 
 

Glad it wasn't too bad. You, like me, cannot be trusted with sharp knives. Every time I buy a new one I do this bone headed thing of running my finger along the blade to test how sharp it is, and a couple of seconds later as I'm leaving a trail of blood from the kitchen to the bathroom cabinet to find a Band Aid, I have my answer. Each time I think "well I'm not going to do that again" but a few years passes and I purchase a new knife and go through the exact same thing again. 
 
I cut myself badly at least once a month while chopping vegetables. These days I have a bottle of liquid bandages on hand because for whatever reason Band Aids just don't stick to me properly. My girlfriend gets angry with me whenever she hears that sharp intake of air and the subsequent "ow," because she's sick to death of seeing me injure myself.

Glad you are okay but silly silly stuff. Knives be nasty (especially high end kitchen knives). I worked in many kitchens back in my grubber youth (mostly as a dish pig or prep clown) and you learn/get taught very quickly once you lose control of a knife you let it drop and scoot your lower body back as quickly as possible so you don't get done in the hands, feet, thighs or crotchular region.
 
As unpleasant as all the other spots to get nailed are the thighs can be the most dangerous due to the arteries. Nick one of those and you can bleed out very quickly. Knife guy is an idiot for even suggesting such silliness (which makes me think he wasn't actually a knife guy... just some sales droog who got sucked into one of those fly by night knife companies).
 
Sudden blood loss can be quite similar to the classic "green out" feeling (especially combined with heat/sun stroke) so you may not have even realized too if it got bad. No proper medics at a large festivals is bad freaking news too. Scary stuff.
 
However the stupidest thing I've ever heard of involving knives was an old bandmate who, right before we were about to launch our career proper (like moving/touring/recording/backed by a small label) got upset at his mom over something dumb, threw a temper tantrum and stabbed the side of a piano. Of course, pianos being solid, the knife didn't go in but instead his hand ran down the blade severing all the tendons that control his fingers. That totally kiboshed his playing and thus all our plans for many months while he got various surgeries and physio. Of course after he healed and we were ready to go he quit the band because he was too scared of the world and didn't want to leave home. Idiot.
 
In a lot of ways I think knives are more dangerous than guns. People don't respect their potential danger nearly as much as a firearm so they aren't as cautious when handling them. I guess I was lucky that I had career chefs looking over my shoulder who screamed at me if they saw me doing anything f*cky with those ultra sharp kitchen knives.
 
As for blood explosions... one night me and a work buddy (when I was doing a bit of screenprinting stuff) went to a crappy dance club to get hammied and pick up girls. It was really lame and cheesy but lots of cute women. Then a RATM tune came on (I believe it was "F*ck You I won't Do What you Tell Me" which was still a pretty fresh track at the time) and drunk of my arse I lunged into the crowd on the dancefloor starting an instant moshpit. The club was filled with massive jocko beefcakes so it got real crazy real fast (but fun). I wiped a couple times and I think there must have been broken glass on the floor because after I got "asked to leave" and got out under a street lamp one my pant legs was soaked with blood. I pulled it up and there was a full on nasty mangled up meat explosion just under my knee in that nice tender/hurty fleshy area. Hurt like a bastard for weeks. Those pants were pretty much ruined from all the blood (blue jeans) but it was a pretty good night.
 
That was before I got into the punk scene so I've been in much crazier pits than that one but I learned to mosh a lot better after that and really... the most dangerous mosh pits are the ones filled with people who've never moshed before.
 
Good times.
 
Back OT... that knife selling clown needs a good slap. Totally irresponsible to encourage people at such an event to play with his wares like that. Who knows what people are on and even a totally sober person should not be playing teeter totter on their fingers with kitchen blades.
 
/nostalgic ramble

Actually... I mangled my thumb with a vegetable peeler a couple days ago. That was a new one... especially considering up until I acquired the peeler I used to peel all my potatoes/veggies freestyle with a chefs knife for years with very few incidents.
 
lulz

Holy Ginsu, Dave!  glad you're OK!

bitflipper

LaszloZoltan
now, what did you learn ?

1. When one's reaction times are slow, better to hold nothing in your hands sharper than a Bratwurst.
 
2. Most people who do live sound suck at it.
 
3. Beatles tunes are eternal.
 
4. Turns out, Jalapeños and sauerkraut are a bad combination.

 Jalapeños and sauerkraut are a bad combination
I needed that information! Thanks Dave

I started a pre-cringe as the story progressed.  I still remember a story from a different musician forum of a guy crawling around in an attic and having to cut cords with a slightly dull box cutter...  Now HE did some major damage to himself and it still gives me the chills thinking about it.
 
Now, about the bratwurst, was it well weighted? 

Glad to hear the bratwurst was okay. That story could have taken a nasty turn. 
 
Of course, I'm also happy that your injury was not more serious. They don't usually let you have fairground food in the ER. Hopefully, this incident will teach your grand-daughter to become a better juggler than her grandfather. 

What a story! Smoke!

sharke
I cut myself badly at least once a month while chopping vegetables.

I highly recommend looking into the "claw" chopping technique. I've been a cook for ten years. With the claw I can chop blindfolded with full confidence.

bitflipper
Yeh, no kidding. I suffered a somewhat deep knife wound last night. 
 
However, the actual story isn't nearly as exciting as the caption above might suggest. More embarrassing, really, as the wound was self-inflicted and accidental. The puncture went into muscle and no organs were damaged, and no major arteries were severed.
 
I'd gone to a local food and music festival with my daughter and grand-daughter to see a Beatles tribute band, and to pig out on greasy fair food. As one might expect, I arrived in the proper frame of mind for overindulgence in food and music. Hey, it's perfectly legal here in my state.
 
You've no doubt attended these kinds of fairs, which are populated with booths where sad-looking salesmen sit forlornly trying to sell hot tubs and vinyl siding, or slightly more interesting tie-died shirts and wind chimes. One of these booths was selling high-end kitchen knives. You might see where this story is headed...
 
The barker was extolling the features of his finely-crafted cutlery, showing how perfectly balanced the knives were in his hand. I was thinking that the sharp points on them would make them perfect for a knife-throwing circus act. He handed one of them to me so I could feel its heft and balance. It was a rather large and heavy knife, perhaps 10 inches in length. What its use might be in the kitchen, I could not imagine, but I suppose one might employ it for skinning a large animal in the back yard.
 
Not wanting to disappoint the demonstrator, I balanced it on my finger as he was doing. However, the pivot point I chose was not the knife's center of gravity, and it rolled forward, tip down, away from my hand and fell. Straight into my thigh, where it lingered momentarily before clattering to the street. I made a quick joke about having to buy it if I broke it and backed away from the booth.
 
As we walked around the grounds making an inventory of all the junk food booths prior to selecting our supper, my pants began to feel wet and sticky inside. It occurred to me that the knife incident may have drawn blood, but I couldn't see any blood - at first.
 
I bought an enormous grilled sausage piled high with sauerkraut, jalapenos, relish, ketchup and mustard, and found a seat in front of the bandstand, where the featured act was setting up. Delighted at seeing authentic guitars being tuned up, including a left-handed Hofner, Ricks and Vox amps, I quickly forgot about the knife incident.
 
Then I looked down at my thigh and thought "oh hell, I've dripped ketchup on my pants".  I went to dab it with a serviette, which came away dripping crimson. Not ketchup. Oh, I thought, I should probably self-administer some first aid, lest I stain something.
 
My grand-daughter produced a band-aid, but I'd need to drop my drawers in order to apply it. The Port-a-Pottie was pretty dark inside, so when I got a look at my leg it was like a scene from a dimly-lit horror movie. Half my leg was covered in blood and my jeans were thoroughly soaked - but being black in color, the blood just looked like spilled hot dog condiments.
 
Worse, the blood was still flowing profusely an hour after the accident. I wondered how much longer it would be before it stopped, and began estimating how much of the concert I'd be able to hear before I blacked out from blood loss. 
 
Realizing the band-aid wasn't up to the task, I set out to find a first-aid station. Such festivals are required to have one, right? Well, no. There was a booth for the local fire district, manned by an actual fireman. But he had no bandages in his first-aid bag. Fortunately, a local hospital was handing out little first-aid kits, so I went back to the Port-a-Pottie, stacked multiple band-aids over the wound and returned to my delicious Bratwurst heart-attack-in-a-bun.
 
The rest of the evening was uneventful. I had a hot fudge sundae and enjoyed a decent Beatles tribute act whose efforts were sadly thwarted by an absolutely dreadful live mix. I kept looking back at the mix booth to see if there was actually a human being sitting there. There was, but he was either totally inept or just there to prevent musicians from stealing the cables.
 
This morning I was able to evaluate the injury, and it now looks trivial. A 1/2-inch long puncture wound, easily covered by a single band-aid. The black jeans went into the washer and all's well. But I won't be digging out my knives today to compare them against those fine utensils I saw at the fair. 
 
 

Ok, so here's a chance to pretend I'm practicing a writing experiment on complete and reckless insensitivity:
 
[I think it was a home work assignment some 35 years ago, but I'm not really sure anymore.]
......................................................................................
"Boy, that was such a long post, that I didn't even read it all, despite the self-induced injury.
 
And btw, where's a Forum Host  to come along & do some 'edited for length' work just when you need it most?
 
Geez!!  Some people, huh?"
.........................................

So glad it was not more serious bit. Do you need a tetnis shot? Who knows where that knife tip had been!

I bet the story gets more colorful as the years go by too. 

Glad you are ok. Nice story