Ok. A few weeks before my wedding, I was prying apart frozen tofu dogs, the knife slipped, and I cut my left hand open across the palm. I knew needed stitches but was home alone. We lived in the city, so my car was a couple blocks away on the street. So I'm walking down Lincoln (big street in Chicago) clutching a blood- soaked kitchen towel over my hand, and NO ONE CARED
Finally as I got near my car, a very nice cop saw me and offered to drive me, which was good because I was about to faint. He's asking me all these questions about what happened to make sure I wasn't attacked or something and I just keep repeating "FROZEN TOFU DOGS"
I still had the bandages for my wedding, but no lasting damage. The scar is a reminder of the dumbest injury ever!