Go ahead, ask how stupid I’m feeling right now. Came to work today an hour late, I’m hobbling around with a sprained right knee, and this is hell week for my division. I also lost my cell phone and all my contacts ('cept those I recorded.)
How did it start? I knocked off a little late last night because we were busy, as I said. Thought I’d down a couple before taking the bus. The couple became two couples before I stood up. On crossing the main avenue, a cab pulled over right at the pedestrian stripes, meaning to make a u-turn at the slot. Regardless, I hate idiots blocking my way when crossing the street. I slapped the side of his cab and kept walking. He called out to me. FY’s were exchanged. I stayed put on the far side and taunted him. I was in no condition to fight so I just kept a safe distance. He was visibly angry, made the u-turn, and stopped 20 meters up my side of the road.
Men like to set rules for themselves only to break them at the crucial moment.
Rule 1: don’t pick fights when you’ve had more than 4. You lose both judgement and coordination. Also, as I discovered that night, you’re not likely to beat a fast retreat if things get hot.
Rule 2: When on foot, never pick a fight with someone aboard a vehicle. His car might contain enough firepower to take on SEAL Team 6, or enough blades to arm the 300.
Rule 3: When YOU’RE carrying a weapon and trouble erupts, get the hell out of there. Needless to say, don’t you be the one to start trouble.
Well, he came out holding a tonfa (police baton) and by the way he held it, he looked like he knew how to use it. Remember what I said about running and clouded judgement? Without warning he broke into a dash and he was closer than I thought. I started to beat it but within 20 feet, I slipped, over-extended my right knee and spilled myself on the pavement, banged my hip and my head hard. And here he comes, “Rodney King part 2!”
He started whacking my left leg at the calf. It didn’t hurt that much (baton was the padded kind) but it certainly took the fight out of you. He put his foot on my chest when I tried to rise and kept hitting my left calf and thighs. When he finally got tired, he left me there sitting on the sidewalk. People gathered around with the inevitable “Hey what happened, little buddy?” or “I saw what he did, you should call the police.”
Well, I got up and walked away. I found I lost my keys so I doubled back (another dumb thing to do) and found it. But I lost my cell phone. I can’t call the cops because I had a pocket knife which I din’t try to take out.
The guy really knew how to use a police baton. He didn’t hit me in the head, face, ribs, or a breakable bony part like the shins or hands. Just the tough muscle areas. If I met him again, I’d thank him for sparing me serious injury (aside from apologizing in the first place.)
So you see my lucky stars didn’t turn off altogether.
