Yesterday, Michel was talking about accident experiences. It reminded of one of mine that I hadn’t thought about in a while. The story also qualifies as yet another “bad date in Sweden” story, hence the title.

So when I was in Sweden, my friend Martin, whom I had a big crush on, heard that I hadn’t yet been to his hometown and invited me to spend the weekend there with him. This was of course very exciting. I was very much looking forward to this and promised my friends all the details.

On the auspicious day of our departure for Mölnlycke (the toilet-paper-holder capital of Sweden), he and I got separated at the train station and I eventually got on the train without him, figuring he’d be on it. The train started moving and I still hadn’t caught sight of him, on or off the train. Finally, I spotted him on the platform, wildly looking for me. I called out to him and held the door open as he sprinted towards the leaving train, but finally he didn’t make it. Realizing he had the tickets with him, I threw my bag off the train then jumped off.

Now, if a train leaves Lund with speed X and Jo leaves the train (thus initially travelling through air also at speed X) and meets the pavement (speed zero) with her face, what do you get?

My legs hit the pavement, but bounced and the next thing I saw was the pavement very up close. I realized I’d hit my forehead and there was suddenly something really wrong with the way it felt. From somewhere, Marty was giving me a tirade of Swedish swears and admonitions, because apparently I had missed a pole flanking the track by inches. When I looked up at him, he turned white and shut up, and I knew something was wrong with my face. Turns out I simply had a swollen forehead. I iced it and we caught the next train.

The next morning I woke up and couldn’t see out of my right eye. I looked in the mirror and jumped. One side of my face was black, purple and yellow, and my eye was swollen shut. Then I realized we had to meet Marty’s entire extended family that day.

I was disfigured for weeks. I’m sure Martin also tells the story as his “most embarrassing moment”, for he had to show me around town all weekend. And the only thing worse than being a woman with a black eye is being the man standing next to her.