Blue, my first flying guillotine Japanese steak house adventure was the beginning of a sad downturn in my life. It started in the 5th grade and has continued till this very day. I was in school and it was decided that for a Social Studies class field trip, we would go to a Japanese steak place. The restaurant's name escapes me but in my child's mind I believed that it should have the word 'ninja' somewhere in the title. Anyway, we go to this place and I was excited because my family was a little poor when we were young and I never really got to eat out very much (my parents would sometimes get KFC and dose it with Hing powder and say it was from the fancy Indian restaurant down the street). So a big, burly Japanese guy is our cook and he does his thing. The bouncing salt and pepper shakers, onion volcano, the flying shrimp! As he's serving us steak he's flipping it into each of our plates as it comes straight off the grill! Being of low intelligence and fairly hungry I was concentrating intently on the flying cooked cow that landed on my plate. Unfortunately, when this Kamikazi chef had tossed my steak he also threw hot oil off his fork as he flicked it. The oil hit me squarely in the eye as I yelled out, "MOTHER FUCKER!" in a high pitched, almost girley tone. All around the table were agast at my anti-social outburst. My teacher actually slapped me and THEN realized that I was actually injured (I grew up in the south and teachers getting physical was just fine then).
The moral? There isn't one really, I just like to share my damage sometimes.
Glad there were no life (and face) scarring incidents on your outing sir.