Thursday, October 8, 2009

The red badge of courage

Jennifer My ex-officemate S., who is into various sorts of gaming, started a mångkamp last year for students and postdocs in our department. The idea is that every participant comes up with some sort of event for everyone to compete in, and this then gives people a chance to share their interests (and also provides an excuse for people to stick around after work and socialize). Past events have included things like ping-pong (there's a table in the basement), poker, egg-balancing, cake-baking, Guitar Hero, Pentago... you get the idea.

Occasionally the contests have been direct combat. S. himself chose stick-fighting, and today was post-doc G.'s event, fencing.

To make a short story shorter, my informal and long-ago training in the sport, courtesy of my father, did me well against people with no experience at all and I actually beat my new officemate X. I came very close to beating another student, B., who danced and swung her epee about quite wildly. Now as you see from the picture, I declined to wear a glove on my crutch-hand, so that my grip would be better. And sure enough, B. fetched me a nice swat on the hand, no more than a sting, but when I looked down when we were finished, it was bleeding. I congratulated her on drawing first blood (I think she was horrified), then accepted my consolation shot of arrack punsch, and then had to run off to do an errand in town.

It wasn't until I was on the bus that it hit me: I have been wounded—nay, I have had my blood drawn—in a sword fight at a 500-year-old European university. How cool is that?

(I am such a geek.)

(Da, I hope you are green with envy! tack för hjälpen!)

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