Most Physically Painful Kilt Experience?

[AN COIGREACH ALBANNACH]

When I was 15 or 16 I had made a kilt for myself out of hesian bags(I was brought up on a farm,plenty of old feed bags about) where the tartan was hand sewn wool stripes or spray paint for the broader bands,a couple of targes,two basket hilted broadswords and a claidhmor,with a pair of dirks for good measure(all out of wood with copper wire bindings). I also boasted a philemor made from two grey blankets from the ex army shop,sewn together.

With a mate similarly mad for the Scottish background in our families, we used to transform into clansmen and run up to this hill we called the highlands to ding seven colours of hell out of each other with these weapons.Once as we closed in and pushed our targes against each other in something similar to what you see mountain goats do when they butt heads on a nature documentary,I like a dafty angled my targe slightly,allowing his to skate up over the brass studs they were both covered in and ram the hard edge straight into my eyebrow.

I writhed about in the long grass for a while holding my eye and cursing,then we resumed our clan warfare.I was quite pleased with my black eye!Now that,Jockscot,was playing at being a Scot!

[BroosterB1]

New Mexico sun, leather seats, regimental in a canvas kilt.....I can hit higher notes now

[Mark E.]

#1:
Splitting wood. Ok, it was a quasi renezvous/gathering, and a gnarly tree had been cut two years back. We needed firewood for our camp grills. So.....we took turns splitting-or attempting to split-this F'''''ine pile of lumpy wood. September in the Midwest, hot as Hades, and me in a kilt, the tallest person there, of course, had to try. Well, a front mounted sporran really gets in the way, so I took it off to avoid damaging it. 10 pound hammer, and 3 wedges into a fairly innocent looking hunk, I took a roundhouse swing, and connected with the central wedge. Well, you know how splitting wedges get all mushroomy on top, and the directions that come with the newer ones say to grind this stuff off? Nobody ever reads the directions...or follows them. The piece that broke off hit me very, VERY high, and it was HOT-as in, temperature. Somehow or another, it had become imbeded in my backside, and nowhere important. Lends whole new meaning to Highland Fling.

#1.5:
Very early in the trend of MMA (mixed martial arts), I was nuts enough to accept a challenge at a multi-use martial arts/boxing/yoga/use your imagination facility. Original activity had been longsword sparring with wood weapons, so I was attired in a more modern kilt, shirtless. My opponent was dressed in fencing breeks and tabard/t-shirt, which came off. I had some grappeling experience, was 3" taller and probably 20 pounds heavier than he, so I figured I was safe. One of the cages they stored the mats in was our "battlefield", and at approx 7'x7', seemed big enough for the task. I was wrong about being safe, and it wasn't big enough. I ended up locked up, him behind me, arm around my neck, my forward self fully squashed up against the chainlink. I had removed the kilt pin to prevent tearing the material, so in his efforts to "throw" me, things had become very undone....and he couldn't get me up over his shoulder. Not because he wasn't strong enough...use your imagination. The bruise lasted nearly 2 weeks. Thank goodness cellphone cameras didn't exist yet.

[David White]

Slipped and slid down an icy snow covered slope in my back yard one night carrying a huge arm load of wood-the back of the kilt ended up around my head. I ended up with ice/snow burns and a hyper-extended wrist and only dropped one piece of the firewood fortunately my chest managed to "catch" the rest of the load when I fell.

[Bill aka Mole]

I have three cats with all their claws. My brother brought his yappy little dog over to the house, and in an effort to escape, all three decided to climb me, starting at my legs. They clawed their way up my body, Midnight taking the kilt with him.

Over the last few years we have had four cats in our lives (currently only have one, Athena) and I believe that each one has used the same method for claiming lap rights while I am at the computer:

A: Stroll over by Dad and observe that lap is empty.
B: Reach up and set fore claws into Dad's thigh.
C: Pull up to claim lap.

They only see a kilt as additional traction media. Usually, on step B, I can grab them and haul them up quickly, much quicker than waiting for them to do it themselves.

[MacHenderson]

My most painful experience was throwing anvils for distance after having knocked back a few beers. When I went to pick up the 150 pounder, I caught myself in the thigh on the bick of the anvil. (The pointy end.) Needless to say, in my pain and rage, I threw that sucker an impressive 8 or 9 feet. No damage to my kilt, but I had a nice, round, black bruise for the next couple weeks afterwards!