Recently I heard that Goodfellows in London insured model Claire Roe for loss of beauty. They also insured a male stripper troupe for genital injuries resulting from their female fans. After hearing all of this, what I've been wondering is: What else can be insured? My writing ability (such that it is)? Can I insure my dog? Or that I'll have plans for the weekend? And is it at all possible to get party coverage?
The only reason I ask is because parties seem to be getting more hazardous to your health. The Commercial Appeal ran a story this past week about a teenage girl who had contracted an infection after a weekend party and eventually lost both her legs and many of her fingers. She seemed, in the article at least, to have a resilient spirit. I know if that happened to me, I would be very bitter and angry. Think about it: You go to a party, contract something that is passed along in close spaces, and later end up in the hospital for amputations.
Not to make light of her situation, but it's just this type of thing that would be perfect for party insurance. Get a disease from a party, get a
sizable pay-out. But it wouldn't have to be that serious of a case, depending on your level of party coverage. Of course, after my past weekend, I think I would have to have full coverage.
I was at this masked ball and two very disturbing things happened. First, I got trashed. And, when all my survival instincts kicked in, I knew throwing up would be such a good thing. Maybe even life-saving. Oh, but I really didn't want to get any puke on my skirt -- you can't clean that out sometimes, and I was wearing one of my favorites. So in the end, thinking more of my wardrobe than my health, I didn't puke. But if I had party coverage, I could have turned in a claim for skirt dry-cleaning, or if the skirt was ruined, for the skirt itself. I think I would've felt much better with that insurance.
The second disturbing thing was truly painful. As I was leaving with a few of my friends, I got ahead of them somehow. They were still inside weaving their way through the throngs of people, out of the building. So I leaned up against the building to wait for them. At the same time, this guy the size of Hulk Hogan (but taller) was having a fight on the sidewalk with about five of his friends. Friends who looked like little dwarves next to him. Oh, and judging from Hulk's demeanor, he had probably drank an entire river of beer. His dwarf friends were trying to get him to do something, hopefully leave, but he wasn't having it. He shook them off, staggered, lost his balance, and fell -- on me.
I can still feel the pain ... literally; he crushed my foot. It's all bruised. I was wearing the highest heels I own, not even because they
matched my skirt, but because my skirt was so long I needed as much height as I could get so it wouldn't drag on the ground. And when his huge body fell on me, my ankle twisted and everything went all bad. (I'm also sure it was the height of comedy for many of the onlookers. I don't remember noticing their reactions; I was too busy hitting Hulk's shoulder with my mask, trying to get him to move off of me. What with my skirt and my foot trapped underneath him, I couldn't move until he did, so I'm sure it was very amusing to everyone else.)
Do you see how useful party insurance would be? It could pay foot doctors' bills and even moving costs, you know, if you had to relocate after an extremely embarrassing event. I'd also like a policy that would promise that a fun time would be had by all; maybe even one that looked into the issue of annoying chitchat. The potential here is endless.
It might sound ridiculous, but just think, at one point, I heard Lloyd's of London wrote a $1 million policy to protect visitors to the Queen Mary from ghosts. From ghosts! The least they can do is offer a policy for party-goers. Maybe instead of a policy like Roe's that protects against loss of beauty, it can cover the beer- goggle phenomenon: loss of beauty the morning after.