Tuesday, October 17, 2006

Sometimes self control is hard.

I just got back from University Village. While there I was waiting on a parking spot. As I started to move in, a silver SUV coming the other direction jumped the spot. A spot opened up nearby so I parked there. As I walked past I said "classy move". The guy immediately came at me and started asking me if I wanted to fight. He yelled at me "how was I supposed to know you wanted the spot?". Obviously he did, since I didn't say "you took my spot" just "classy move". The best part, his kid was getting out of the car while he was berating me. I said nice example and started to walk away, to which he said "let's go". Now he's 6 foot something, a white middle class looking male. And he's doing that thing were he's trying to tower over me.

And it's all I could do not to knee him in the balls and then break his nose. I have the advantage of actually being trained to disable people quickly and firmly. It was pretty obvious he didn't. But I was the better man and walked away. I can't help but feel unsatisfied knowing he walked away thinking "I showed him" while I walked away half hoping he'd take a swing. Why is that? Why is it the jerk gets to feel good about himself while I walk away wishing I'd just (tried to) dropped him right there? Why is the instict to fight so mush stronger than the rational understanding that it doesn't accomplish anything?

Update: maybe it's because all my friends seem to think i should have decked him. But I suspect that's cause they would have found it funny to read my jailhouse blog. And sure you talk tough now Craig, but I seem to remember a different reaction when I went through the window and into that one guys truck after he tried to run you over.

8 Comments:

At Tuesday, October 17, 2006 6:18:00 PM, Blogger pnwbuckeye said...

He he, some dude took your parking space...he he...

 
At Tuesday, October 17, 2006 6:36:00 PM, Blogger P-Dog said...

ok, that's it. lets go Stache. I can totally take you. maybe. is your wrist better yet, I need to know before we really throw down.

 
At Tuesday, October 17, 2006 7:40:00 PM, Blogger Double C said...

The reason it is hard to walk away in that situation is because you know that YOU could take him. Pru be happy with your decision-making & punch Craig in the arm the next time you see him to release all the anger you have kept inside.

2XC

 
At Tuesday, October 17, 2006 7:46:00 PM, Blogger stokediam said...

Boys, boys, boys.....

What the F were you doing DRIVING to U Village? Don't you, like, practically live closer than most of the parking spots to wherever it is you were trying to go? Trying to increase America's dependence on foreign oil, one ounce at a time?

 
At Wednesday, October 18, 2006 11:00:00 AM, Blogger Haws said...

Keep the anger, and put it to the pedals.

 
At Wednesday, October 18, 2006 12:33:00 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

best line of this entire post: "I have the advantage of actually being trained to disable people quickly and firmly."

Could he not notice that you are a Ninja??

As far as Craig?? He never DID take a poke at that underage kig egging him on (strangely close to U Village, as I recall??)--something about going to jail or getting sued or something. I don't remember. So I really wouldn't listen to that guy....

 
At Wednesday, October 18, 2006 12:49:00 PM, Blogger P-Dog said...

yah well I don't listen to craig too much.

yah i know people seem to think i am a ninja. that's not cuase of my fighting skills. i think it's because i used to dress up as a ninja when i was 10 and run around trying to scare my family. how did they always know it was me????

the training i got was many, many years ago in the army (in fact, i think the last fight i was in was actually in the army). my specific job was to stop angry, 19 year old guys with big guns from killing civilians (seemed safer than airborne interigator (sp?) which I always imagined as yelling at some POW while jumping out of a plane). Sadly, civilians often look like the enemy when your unit just got shot-up and your buddy killed. we had to be able to disarm and disable someone pretty quickly. cause if we didn't, they might shoot us too. of course, we were also taught that if we couldn't disable them quickly just to walk away.... so they taught us to hit'em in the nuts and then break the nose. pretty simple, nothing fancy. stay away from punches cause your liable to break your own hand and a black eye looks bad but isn't really very effective unless you are freaky strong.

in my experience, guys who are actually dangerous just hit you or walk away. in real fights, even the winner tends to get f*ed up. it's the guys that talk big and do the prancing that think a fight is like the little wrestling match the have with their room-mate every week. a little hair pulling and a scratch or 2.

anyhoo.. my point is, despite my supposedly highly developed braniac like intellect, like most males i am still just a thug at heart. if i thought he could kick my ass i would have felt like "well, what could i do". why is that? it shouldn't matter. worng is wrong is wrong, whether he's tougher or I am.

And honestly, the more I think about it the more I suspect I'd probably hurt myself in a fight. I mean, all those sweet skillz might be hard to pull off 11 years later. It would be pretty demoralizing to send my knee towards his head only to pull a hammy and hit the deck groaning. That would not look good.

And if you disagree I'll use my Ninja skillz on you.

 
At Thursday, October 19, 2006 7:57:00 AM, Blogger CROW said...

All ninja skill and army-training aside, two guys scuffling in the U-Village parking lot is a far cry from the coolness of, say, big time wrestling, fight-clubbing with brad pit or perhaps ultimate fighting. In fact, as I imagine it, parking lot fisticuffs pretty much looks like two privileged, white preps grabbing each other.

Of course, Pru, I’m sure the dude was enraged on steroids or rushing to Starbucks for a caffeine fix after battering his wife. The beating that you didn’t give him likely saved his dog (not his wife or kid) a few underserved kicks. Good job.

 

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