I'm now thinking my shoulder scar might have been 10 years ago, because of the many scars on my fingers, one has a Tribe-related story that's must have happened in 2005 or 2006. Either way, it was almost 10 years after i had started going to raves and i decided for the first time to get into the candy kid thing. All my (younger) friends had phat pants and candy bracelets and fuzzy hoodies and they always looked like they were having so much fun. Eventually i bought some of the gear too, but one weekend after looking at the line-ups it seemed there was nowhere new and exciting to wear it. Well, nowhere except the goth club, that is.
We called together our crew and staged a rave invasion. We charged in with candy bracelets from wrist to elbow, rave dancing every time they dropped New Order or The Cure, and standing around smiling with bemusement at the "tree dance" all those frilly-shirted vampire types did every time some epically romantic funeral dirge came on. Being a goth party, someone had bought scotch, and dropped it on the drinks shelf that skirted the dancefloor. Being a goth party, it was dark. So, when i drunkenly went to pick up my glass of rave beer, i sliced my fingers open. It was one of the worst finger injuries i have ever had. I fell to the floor with blood pissing everywhere. I started hyperventilating, and some nice goth chick in a corset took me into the bathroom and tried to nurse me back to health. She had some band-aids and toilet paper, but the bleeding was so effusive nothing helped.
Then my girlfriend came to the rescue. She said "i know a guy", so we stumbled outside, where as usual for weekend peak hour, there was a 45-minute wait for a cab. And my girlfriend found The Guy. He comes up to me, all candy bracelets and Crocodile Dundee. Says "i was a combat medic in Iraq, don't worry, i'll fix you up". Meanwhile i have almost passed out from blood-loss and the tip of my finger is hanging off. He goes into his bag and pulls out a knife and some bandages and tape and shit and says "i'll just fix you up like we did in Iraq" and proceeded to tourniquet my finger so tightly the bleeding finally stopped.
My girlfriend eventually got me home, where i could finally pass out. Next morning instead of going to the real doctor, i called another rave doctor - aka that med student who everyone would hit up for pharmaceutical coke. Anywho, he rocks up and cuts off the tourniquet. Meanwhile the tip of my finger hasn't fallen off, but is now white and looks deader than the goths' faces from the night before. He cooked up some saline solution in my kitchen to "sterilize" it and bandaged it up all nice and doctory. I never did end up going to a "real" doctor, and for months i had no sensation at all in that finger. But now it's just another scar.