Have you ever been involved in a fight that resulted in you being dealt a severe beating? By ‘beating’ I’m not talking about a minor playground skirmish, but rather something serious causing either a loss of consciousness or requiring hospitalization of one or more of the participants in the fight.
Describe the event of being beaten. What events precipitated the fight? What could you have done to avoid it??
Thanks.
I was working late night, at a convienence store in Orlando, in the 80’s.
3 guys walked in, asked for nothing. Just beat me senseless.
They couldn’t figure out how to open the register (I had the key in my pocket), so they vandalized the gas pumps & left. I woke up on the floor, & crawled outside. A plumber that stopped for gas called the cops.
ER trip.
I couldn’t work for 6 months.
Not literally. Despite a minor concussion and some cracked ribs I was able to keep sphincter control thankfully.
I was jumped by a couple of high school football players (this happened when I was in high school. I’m not menaced by 16 year olds too much anymore) for talking back to their taunting and then punching one of them in the face when they came after me. Three of them just started wailing on me, it was like a stampede of ass kicking. I just went limp and tried to cover my face and my nuts. The whole thing was over pretty quickly and I blacked out only after it was over.
Despite what the deans said, there really wasn’t much I could have done to avoid it besides run, and running only makes you out of breath when they do finally catch up with you, which sucks even worse.
So far, no.
Does sparing-that-goes-too-far count?
When I was -much- younger, I was an avid martial artist. (You wouldn’t know it to look at me now). Durring a match, I got hit so hard that… Well, I sorta blacked out. I honestly don’t remember what happened for the next minute or so. All I -do- recall was being pulled off my opponent by the instructor, as I was apparently kneeling on his chest and pounding him repeatedly in the face.
(Yes, my entire life I’ve had repressed rage issues). I was not allowed to spar again, and thus sort-of ended up disenchanted with the whole process (hey, I was a kid at the time. I didn’t have great patience.)
Once.
I was walking to meet my girlfriend and walked past a park.
After a gang of guys asked me where I was from I realised that I was in trouble.
One of them punched me in the back of the head then I remember being hit again before realising I was now at the bottom of a ditch covered in blood surrounded by worried looking faces (they’d clearly at some point knocked me out and thought they’d killed me).
They let me stand up and I managed to walk away.
Blackeyes, burst lip and nose. Cracked ribs. They even stole my watch when I was unconscious.
I never walked past that park again.
When I was 18 or 19 I went to the pub one night and people kept approaching me and asking how I was and did I feel OK. Hours later I discovered that a rumour had gone around that, the previous night, in another town I had been involved in a fight with a Hell’s Angels gang. Apparently I had been beaten unconcious and then repeatedly kicked and eventually taken away, nearly dead, in an ambulance. My appearance at the pub the next night, coupled with my blaise attitude about it earned me much undeserved credit.
I have often wondered who took the beating that I was credited with.
I was involved in a brawl outside of a dorm back in college. A group of my friends invited me along with them to a birthday party at the room shared by two girls who were friends in another dorm. When we arrived, there were 3-4 guys there already, one of whom was pretending to be drunk. The girls moved on either side of him to lift him to his feet, and the ‘drunk’ guy squeezed each of their breasts (!). (Today, he’d have been jailed for sexual assault)
A scuffle broke out, and the molester’s crew (all Betas) ran outside. My friends chased them and I followed my friends. Outside a fight ensued and my friends were smaller than the other guys. I tried to even it up by jumping on the largest guy, putting him into a full-nelson, and sitting down.
note to self: never try to contain a fight. if you must fight, fight to win.
Unfortunately, the behemoth I was holding on to had arms longer than Ian Anderson and was punching me square in the face over his shoulder. At some point I lost my composure, shifted into a half nelson and punched his face repeatedly with my now free hand. It was at this point that the molester kid broke off from whoever he was fighting and gave me a running side-kick to the head. I blacked out.
I came to in the infirmary. They were cutting away my shirt, as it was covered with blood. The Dr kept saying he couldn’t find a wound. That’s when I heard a friend say, “the blood’s not his”. I ended up with a severe concussion, but I might have broken the other guy’s nose.
Just once, for a homework assignment, but I’m not supposed to talk about it.
Yes. Domestic violence. Couldn’t have done anything to avoid it - and so everyone insists on reminding me when I forget. Broken bones, brain injury, months of recovery.
I was in gradeschool playing a game similar to basketball, but you threw the ball into a big funnel and it came out of a little “spout” with different points on each spout. Anyway, a bigger guy than me stole the ball from me, so I kicked him in the nuts. He got pissed, grabbed my arm and swung me in a few circles, finally letting go and sending me flying into a brick wall.
When I came to, a bunch of people were standing around staring at me and looking worried. I’d been knocked out for 5 or 6 minutes and was bleeding from a cut on my head and from my nose. I was cleaned up in the office and sent back to math class, where I couldn’t perform even basic math or concentrate on anything. I was sent back to the office to call my parents to pick me up, but fainted as I got out of the door.
They called the ambulance and I spent the night in the hospital, diagnosed with some sort of concussion. When I went back to school, I lied about what happened to protect the guy who did it. Now we’re neighbors and run into each other every once in a while. Neither of us brings up the event. I was maybe 11 or 12 when this happened.
Isn’t this what childhood is all about?
I cannot help but giggle at your misery suffered.
No I haven’t… and I dare any of you pussies to try!
Heh. I can’t not giggle at your giggling over the story.
No. Been in some serious bar brawls. I learned a few things:
Says the man whose location site isn’t listed!
As a youth of about 19 or 20, I went to visit a friend of mine one weekend in the town where he was going to college. Now we always considered our self toughians. This particular day we’d be boozing it up all day, and had decided to crash for the night. We were both asleep when we heard one of his three roommates (house mates?) come into the house yelling “Paul! (my friend) Enright3! Get out here, I got us into a fight!”
His idiot 3 roommates pissed off some local assholes and then taunted them into following them back to their house and expected us to bail them out! We got up and ran out there like the cavalry. Paul says in his toughest teenage voice (Who wants some shit?!" to the biggest SOB out there. I don’t remember much after that. A mini gang fight broke out, We didn’t stand a chance. The last thing I remember was getting kicked in the head by someones (new looking) cowboy boots. I woke up a few hours later in the yard with a bloody head. It was then that I realized that I was no toughian or bully, and never really wanted to be. I was a good time joe, and have always had more fun with that.
Well there was one other time that I thought I was tough… I was with some friends at a bar, this is probably six or seven years later. I was trying to be friendly to some asshole at a bar, and I asked him his name, and he replied “You can call me God”. To which I promptly replied: “I’m sorry I don’t think I heard you. Did you say your name was Asshole?” I’m sure I was seconds away from getting a sound ass beating on that one but my friend separated us. I’m not a small person (6’3"), but this guy was easily 6’7", and with a (obviously) God complex.
That’s awful, Bosda. Did the cops ever catch these thugs? Did you ever go back to working at this place or any other convenience stores?
No, thank Og. Most of the stories in this thread are horrific.
Ummm . . . what? 
No.
And, no.
I work in Government, now, & I do not want to be between the Bad Guys & the Moolah ever again.
The pain in my leg & arm, & the partial loss of use of both are due to neuro damage caused by the beating.