It was a Wednesday night. Alone in the windy city, I was wandering the streets freuqenting establishments that seemed interesting.
I’d spent some time in one such place - a seemingly nondescript joint answering to the name of Nick’s - and was nursing a drink contemplating the next stop in this oddessy when a couple struck up a conversation directly behind me.
I say conversation to be polite, but in truth their words were heated and their tone hardly condusive to resolution.
Understandably I feel slightly uncomfortable being an invountary witness to this and turned back to the bar and finished my drink having decided the situation and growing volume was the sign to leave.
As I stood however it took a turn for the worse. Without warning the guy backhanded her viciously knocking her to the ground.
I was stunned for a second but acted without thinking. I jumped between them and gave the guy a “what’s up with that?” Being a pacifist I didn’t give into the urge to retaliate on her behalf (damn these white knight tendencies) and endeavoured to settle him down. I told him that wasn’t on and it was taking it too far.
He seemed upset but didn’t communicate outside of a seemingly impotent glare (he was slightly shorter and lighter than me at a glance). I turned to help the girl up.
And he hit me.
With my back nearly completely turned he hit me on the side of the head. Not a great blow but an unexpected one. I barely held my temper in check but whirled on him and grabbed him, put him in a hold and shoved him against the bar (he’d had a few to drink). I resisted the urge to bang his head against it, deciding to hold him until the security got there.
They arrived very quickly in fact. I hadn’t been there for more than five or six seconds when they turned up.
And grabbed me.
Leaving the guy.
I protested (not that I shouldn’t be escorted out - just that I should hardly be alone) but was ignored. My protests suddenly took a new turn as the girl jumped up and turned to her man asking “did he hurt you baby?”
Then I swore.
Now I understand the bouncer may have taken my profanity as further proof that I was the one in need of ejection. Just as I understand that in these situations bouncers - who are not paid to think - shouldn’t take sides. They should just remove all the troublemakers.
But no, he stayed. I was dismissed. Despite the fact that I was leaving anyway, once outside I told the bouncer what I thought of the situation. He called the police over. Upset I told them what happened while realising they would do nothing.
Well almost nothing, they moved me on.
It wasn’t until I went to another bar - still seething - that someone asked me what happened to my head. Seems he was waerign a ring or something and it had cut me. Nothing bad or major - a thin scratch - but anyone who’s had a scalp wound knows they bleed profusely.
&^*$#@
I’ve since been told I shouldn’t have got involved, and yes domestics aren’t exactly something I would look for. But it happened right there. The bahvaiour wasn’t acceptable, and more to the point I didn’t think at all, just responded.
Aaaah Chicago. While I miss thee, there are some things I could have done without.
