I was aware of every bone in my body. All 206 of them.
I fell onto the stage, which was occupied by the equipment of a church band that almost certainly had a Bible pun for a name. I was inches away from nailing a drum kit. If this had been a movie, it would've made a hilarious cacophony, then I would've sprung to my feet with a glib one-liner. In reality, I would have merely been impaled on a drum kit.
If it had happened during the solo, I at least would've gone out a hero.
But since I hit a flat space legs-first (the best way to do it -- though it's hard to recommend, exactly), I survived. With the kind of horrific injuries you'd expect from having the lower half of your body sacrifice itself for the upper half, of course. I very nearly died. Plus, Metalthuselah probably had to cancel their set, which I'm sure was also heartbreaking.