We started the night out at our current house at the time, and it seemed like it was going to be an awesome night with good friends! Which it was...for the majority of the evening.
I started off the night looking normal, or as normal as I usually look at least.
Just your average pre-bar face.
The last photo taken before the now infamous piggyback ride.
We started our the crawl, and found ourselves having a blast as we made our way to a couple bars. By that point, our crew was definitely a bit tipsy, but in Pacific Beach, we fit right in stomping the streets to our next watering hole.
During our trek to the next bar, I got the brightest idea - which ended up not being so bright. I asked Handsome Husband for a piggyback ride, because
I was drunk and lazy my feet were starting to hurt. Being the sweet guy that he is, he naturally obliged, crouched down and hoisted me right up there.
All was well for about a half block, until a curb found itself in front of our little rodeo ride. Handsome Husband, having been
drinking celebrating his birthday for hours, was not 100% focused on safe piggyback riding protocol, and completely tripped on the curb. This where things get a bit fuzzy for me, being that what followed after HH's trip was me being flung up over his head and landing face-first on the concrete, with just my face to break my fall.
I'm fairly certain I blacked out for a moment at this point, because I don't remember anything from flying through the air towards the ground until opening my eyes to our crowd of friends staring at me. Being the drama queen I am, I began screaming in a combination of pain, fear, and panic. Everyone had an opinion on what to do, and there are some that stand out to this day.
"Oh-my-God - look at the huge lump above her eye!"
"Lets just go to the next bar and get some water."
"Why is she screaming so loud?"
While our drunken group of young 20-somethings fit right in on the streets of PB, me, lying on the ground screaming with a group of well-meaning friends crouching over me did not. At some point, I was helped up from the ground, and made the decision, due to the massive swelling above my eye, to head to the ER to make sure there were no broken bones.
I was in a lot of pain, and poor sweet HH. He felt so bad. He was nearly in tears, and the poor guy just wanted to make sure I was okay.
After a little bit of waiting (not too long, they take head injuries pretty seriously!), I was in and out of the ER, with nothing more than a pain killer prescription, some cleaned up cuts, a fat lip, and a quickly developing black eye.
Just so ya'll don't think I'm bluffing, some proof of the piggyback ride that went terribly wrong:
Minutes after walking in the door after the trip to the ER - might not be too obvious, but note the swelling above the eye and the fat lip (which only continued to grow for days).
God knows why I am sharing this photo with this terrible expression, but this was the next morning - nearly impossible to open my eye!
Two days post-piggyback ride - the bruising around the black eye transitioned through a warped rainbow of colors from black and blue, to red, to greenish and yellow. Not hot.
Free lip enlargement? Throw your face into the concrete from about 6 feet above ground.
Lesson learned? It's all fun and games until someone's face hits the concrete.
Also, no more drunken piggyback rides.