*sigh*

This evening when I went to my tri-weekly Taekwondo class, I was pleased to discover that the protech weapon of the testing cycle was bong-mon-ee, or for the martial arts laymen, single stick. We started learning the various strikes right away, and my initial pleasure nearly evaporated when I was paired up with a man in his sixties whose movements were jerky, undeliberate, and all over the place. To put it politely, I was scared shitless of being knocked out by a stray blow.

I maintained my calmness, and proceeded to walk him through the four main strikes. After a while he got the hang of it, with the occasional stumble. I was pleased with myself for having successfully taught the man something, so it came as quite a shock to me when the protech stick flew from his hand, the hard edge hitting me smack on the forehead.

I awoke some 90 seconds later with the entire class peering down upon me. The sight of all those wide eyes looking straight at me was almost enough to make me want to go back to sleep. When I finally got up, my head instructor told me to go to the bathroom and “wash up.” I thought it strange, but I shrugged and went to the bathroom.

I realized why he had sent me as soon as I saw the mirror. On my forehead where the impact had occurred, was a bump the size of a goose-egg diamond, big and red and swollen. I did my best for it, but it throbs loudly to the beat of The Rolling Stones as I type this.

Ahhh, well. At least the old man learned something.

I hope.