Fight Club

Tuesday, September 26th, 2006

I’m such a pussy. No, no, it’s ok. I really am. Let me explain.

Yesterday’s post sent my mind a-wandering and reflecting on my behavior that day. Not the bahavior which led to the situation (which I am hereby am admitting was retarded), but my actions when faced with danger. I don’t think I should have done anything different such as get out of the car or anything in that particular situation. Nor do I hold any apologies for being scared shitless, any sane person would be when faced with a homicidal real-world version of Jason Vorhees with an axe handle. What was on my mind though, is that in nearly any physical or potentially violent situation that I have faced in years past I have handled myself in a near identical manner even if the particular situation was not nearly as volatile.
I began to think about all the situations in my life where I could have handled myself more like a man. We’ll go through each one-by-one. The events that follow are instances of actual physical confrontation. I’m not even going to go into all the times I talked my way out of, ignored or avoided confrontation.

Baldy
I’m not sure exactly when, but I was in Jr. High. There was the kid on the bus who we picked on occasionally and he had just gotten his head shaved. He was sitting in front of me and I kept rubbing his head and making snide comments. After several times of me doing this, he turned around and slapped me. Hard. If I had been a man, I would have at least tried to kick his ass right then and there. Instead I told him I was going to kick his ass later and to meet me “at the woods” at 6:00 or something like that. Of course I didn’t think he would show. Of course he did. Everyone on the bus was there to see the fight. This was a natural occurrence in our neighborhood. There were alot of fights. Did I kick his ass for slapping me like a bitch in front of everyone on the bus? No. We stood there pushing each other and talking shit until it was time to go home.

YoYo
I think it was seventh grade. YoYo’s were a big thing around school. Everyone had one. I was outside before school with my group of friends with our yoyo’s. This rather large ninth grader came walking up. He was one of those kids who was a fighter. Always getting in fights. He just walked up to me and punched me right in the face. This may have been the first “real” punch I had ever taken. Did I kick his ass (or at least fight him back) for punching me in the face in front of the whole school? No. I actually ran away. I think I may have even cried. Come to find out he thought I had taken his friend’s yoyo. I think the only thing that didn’t send me into the confines of Jr. High School Hell for being such a pussy was that I didn’t rat him out. Some other kids told on him and when the school administration confronted us about it. I told them we were just playing around and we were friends. That the people who told must have misunderstood what was going on. We actually became pseudo-friends after that.

Jumped
When I was in the eleventh grade I went to the high school of which my father was assistant principal. He had suspended some guy for something. I never even knew who he was. He and three other guys jumped me in the hall as payback. One of them hit me on the side of the head as I walked by and I fell to the ground. They then proceeded to kick, literally, the shit out of me. This situation is a little different in that there really was nothing I could do but lay there and cover my head. When they stopped I jumped up and they were gone. Believe it or not, that was the only truly negative repurcussions of going to the school with my Dad as a principal who took no shit.

Mickey’s
One night in college we were sitting on our futon couch hanging out and drinking Mickeys Malt Liquor in the hand grenade bottles. I have a theory as to why gangsters kill each other. They drink malt liquor. That shit makes you meeeaaan. I was sitting on the couch with Father Mac. Father Mac was a big dude. I looked over at him and to this day I still don’t know why, but I said, “I’m fixing to smoke you”. He looked at me with a puzzled expression and said, “What?”. I said it again. And then I pulled back and punched him square in the nose. He sat there with a look on his face that said, “What the fuck did you just do?” He then jumped up and started smoking me. Luckily I had been able to cover my face and the blows rained down on the top of my head. This ended pretty quickly. We sat back on the couch and cracked another beer. “Damn, that was weird.” “Yeah”. And that was that.

The Crow
I will probably spend some more time on this story, because I actually won this confrontation even though I felt pretty bad about it. I was in college, sophomore year and it was my birthday. We were celebrating the way college kids do. I think this may have been the first time I had Jagermeister. There was this guy from upstairs who would come down occasionally and no one really liked him. He was a chronic liar. Outlandish lies. He was obsessed with the movie The Crow and fancied himself a martial arts expert even though he didn’t know a lick of martial arts. He had told us his new nickname was The Crow. Jeez. We were shooting Jagermeister. Now that I think about it, I think we were making Liquid Herion - half a shot of Jagermeister, half a shot of Rumpelmintz. I caught “The Crow” red-handed taking the shot glass, pretending to shoot it and then pouring it down the sink. We were college kids and that shit is expensive. It infuriated me, but I didn’t say anything.

Not long after that we decided to leave to go to the bar. He wanted to go with us. That was fine, we needed someone to make fun of. We went outside the dorm, and I had to run back in for something. When I came back out he was laying on the ground.

“What are you doing laying on the ground”

“Dude, I tried to scale that wall like The Crow and I got about halfway up and fell down”

That was it. I had had it.

“That’s it motherfucker, you think you know karate. Show me that shit. Let’s go”

He says “Hwaaaaa”, and does some kind of arm swing and get’s down in a “stance”.

I bum rushed his ass and just started wailing on him. After I hit him several times, I stopped and immediately felt like a dick. “Man, I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me. I just meant to play around.” Even though I really didn’t. I guess I knocked the wind out of him because he said through gasps, “That’s ok, man.” He actually got in the car and went out with us that night.

So that’s that. It would be 10 years after that last “fight” that I started learning Taekwon-Do. I mainly started taking it to lose weight and have always had a lifelong respect and admiration of the Oriental Art of ass-whupping. Not because I apparently have had a lifetime of American ass-whuppings. At least consciencly that’s why I started taking it anyway. Talk about the hand of fate or something. Now that I feel confident that I could defend myself and administer my own brand of beat down to the average person, I have never had the need to. Naturally, I am smart enough to realize that this is a good thing, but that doesn’t make it any less ironic.
Why would I go to such great lengths to tell the world about all of this? Because I am ready to redeem myself.

I will not fight out of anger, not because I am a pussy like I once was, but because I have acheived the enlightenment of old age and the wisdom of the martial arts. The art of fighting without fighting as Bruce Lee once said in Enter The Dragon.
I will still avoid confrontation and only fight out of necessity as I was taught in the monastery. For instance if my village is overtaken by barbarians, I will fight. If a religous idol depicting my god is stolen, I will fight. If my woman’s honor is called into question, I will fight. If my teacher is murdered by a rival school, I will fight. If King Louie calls me a cracker-ass cracker and pushes me in the pool, I will fight. If The White Guy throws a soaking wet towel at me after that, I will fight.
There is one situation where I will fight not out of necessity, but for honor and glory. An honest tournament or sparring battle. A test of abilities, if you will. To see whose kung-fu is better.

I hereby extend an invitation to fight me. However, for my safety and the safety of my opponent I must set some guidelines. As this is a sparring match only, I must ensure that good sportsmanship is maintained.

All potential takers must meet at least three of the following criteria:

1. Weigh under 150 lbs.
2. Have a plastic knee, hip or plate in your head
3. Be an albino
4. Have a patch over one eye
5. Be at least 60 years of age (and your last name can’t be Turner, and you can’t have been a 3rd Degree black belt in my karate class)
6. Be Female (and aneroxic)
7. Be Bald
8. Be a Vegan
9. Live in South Florida West of I-95, East of Andrews Ave., South of Atlantic Blvd., and North of Cypress Creek Road
10. Be a midget (but not a wrestler)

If you meet any three of the above stipulations and think you can take me…let’s rumble, bitch.

Serious inquiries only.