46
by Brett Eugene Ralph_Archive
This tale does not recount an actual altercation, and I know it's totally lame to relate a fight you almost got into, but I think it's a pretty funny story, and it's the last time I even came close to fisticuffs.
I was at a bar a couple of years ago--it was New Year's Eve, and a buddy of mine, a musician who had played earlier that night, was working the door, basically an opening between the bar and the room where bands play. It was past midnight, but since bars close at four in Louisville, we were still charging admission. My friend was pretty drunk by now, which has never added much charm to his already irascible disposition.
A woman made to walk past, and my friend said, "I need to see your stamp." She ignored him and kept walking, at which point he grabbed her arm and prevented her from entering. "You grabbed my fucking arm?!!" she screamed. "Here's my fucking stamp, asshole! You've only checked it five times already!" She shook her hand in front of his face. "Look," he said, "there's tons of people here--I don't have time to remember everybody."
I leaned against the wall without comment and took it all in. The woman was visibly drunk and dressed in an upscale manner rare at shows such as this. She continued to harangue my friend until her boyfriend emerged from the bathroom. He was a tall, Italian-looking guy, dark-complected with a prominent nose and long hair pulled back into a ponytail. I recognized them as the couple that had been making out in a corner all night, oblivious to the music. "What's the problem here?" said the guinea.
"This motherfucker grabbed my arm!" she screamed and began to rant again. The guy regarded my friend in disgust. "You know what?" he said, "I could tell you were a fucking dick when you were up onstage earlier. You've just got an inner dick in you, don't you, that's just gotta come out."
An inner dick! Can you believe it? It was all I could do to keep from laughing, and I'm sure I smiled broadly when my friend said, "Let me tell you something" and leaned up from the stool to whisper in the Italian's ear. Whatever he said did the trick--you could almost see steam coming from the man's ears as he pulled away, his face reddening, and said, "I guess I'm gonna have to knock you off that fuckin' stool."
This is where I entered the conversation. Without moving or raising my voice, I said, "Well, man, when you get done with him, you better save a little bit for me."
The guy turned and sized me up. He was a big man, taller than me (I'm 6'1"), and while he did not have my considerable bulk, he was anything but skinny. I truthfully do not know if I could have taken him, but I do know that I would die before I'd let myself be vanquished by a man with a ponytail.
After a moment, the guy said, "I guess I'm just gonna have to beat the shit out of both of you assholes." That's when I got a chance to say something I'd longed to say in a situation such as this my entire life. I said, "Wade on in, motherfucker, let's see how much you got." The entire time I had not moved from my position against the wall, and I did not raise my voice.
He glanced at his girlfriend and said, his posture already deflating, "You know what? Y'all aren't even worth it." Wordlessly, he and his girlfriend began to move away from us.
"That's right," I said. "We're not. And that's exactly what every pussy on earth says before he walks out the fucking door."
Now I had no real desire to fight him--I abhor fighting----but I was not going to stand by as he crushed my friend, an aging alcoholic gnome who, if you struck him, would dissolve into a cupful of dust. I just wanted to emasculate that asshole in front of his woman and keep him from getting laid on New Year's Eve. I know that both my friend and that woman were in the wrong--they're both assholes--but neither the woman nor her loutish beau was my friend. Where I'm from, that makes all the difference in the world.