I was at a concert (I Killed The Prom Queen) the other night with a mate having a pretty good time. The crowd were a younger generation, doing what is known as hardcore dancing which if you are unaware is a cross between slam dancing and metal deathcircle elbow throwing, with bad cartwheels and taekwondo-esque turn kicks thrown in. It is fucking funny watching fists and feet fly that freely without being at a WTF competition.
For someone who was accustomed to metal moshpits and death circles in the 90's where elbows and fists were the order of the day, I quickly adapted to a new feet avoiding strategy: throw more elbows and if I saw someone lining up an athletic kick, shoulder barge them mid air before the feet were able to gain steam. Worked like a charm. I like to think that they realised I had been banging heads for longer than some of them had been forming words and decided not to **** with this awesome metalhead behemoth. It could also be because my mate seemed to lose his mind.
Seriously, about ten minutes into the set a hardcore kiddie was throwing some serious fists out there, wild like they were grenades taped to his hands and he needed to get rid of them. Full arcing swings like a madman on meth simulating a freestyle swimming stroke. He permeated my peripheral vision and I became immediately aware. My mate didn't.
Over the sound of the music the sound of this fist connecting with my mates face was either audible, or the shockwave was visible. The stunned look on his face was priceless. The look that replaced it was not. I often talk about the evil that lurks in the hearts of men and that some men wear their heart on their sleeve, well this look was like he had wiped his face with his sleeve and all the evil from his heart was on his face. I think that works, let me know in the comments below.
He turned into the moshpit monster, deathcircles would form and he would run the other way taking out the kiddies like some sort of cartoon, cutting a swathe through the traffic with kids hitting the deathcircles walls and floor with such gusto I was sure there was some sort of special effects being applied between my retina and brain.
Satan hadn't finished with him when the mosh had. Outside there was a rather inebriated young chap who had invited ridicule by being a rather inebriated young chap trying to dance and eventually, by just trying to stand up. This chap was being mildly forceful with his girlfriend, grabbing her face and kissing her, while simultaneously hitting on the chick beside them. It was amusing to watch at first, but my mate became enraged the more he saw him gripping the girls chin. Suddenly he was telling the young man exactly what he thought of this manhandling of his missus while trying to score with another seemingly disinterested chick.
Now, this young fellow was a good 6-7 inches taller than my mate and relatively built, not big, but with a bit of muscle. On the other hand, my mate is a regularly competing BJJ purple and has a variety of other martial arts under his belt. So when Drunk Young Gun decides, "hey, I'm bigger than this dude, I can take him" in his slurred thoughts and says, "yeah, **** you, mate, wanna go" in his slurred words, my mate says, "come on then" and I'm like, "dude, don't kick off now, I'm texting a chick right now and she might be into hooking up later tonight". True story, I was texting a chick.
Anyway, I hoped this wouldn't result in much more than DYG apologising for his behaviour and promising never to do it again, but I am a realist who also happens to be great in bed provided she enjoys light BDSM. As expected DYG throws a punch, I stop my protesting against violence and pocket my phone (just as things were heating up) just in case I need to break it up and let them go at it.
The first several punches from both sides missed, they grappled and went to ground. A security guard approached, but stood there in what had to have been the most ineffectual display of bouncerism I have ever witnessed, I mean, he would not have looked out of place chanting "FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT!". I heard the group next to me say, "it's like watching little girls fight" when my mate nearly sunk in a RNC. Suddenly the group next to me were experts, "did you see that, he nearly got him in a Rear Naked Choke!"
After a tiny bit more of a scuffle my mate started throwing knees in quick succession. The third one forced DYG to quit quick smart, he sprinted away possibly crying and most definitely nursing facial injuries. The group next to me, the same ones less than a minute before, are idolising my mate, "it was like UFC!" I just shook my head.
We are escorted from the premises. Then my mate says to me, "why didn't you help?" I'm like, "you start a fight, you finish it". He then starts with the hypotheticals, what if his mate joined in? (Then his mate would have a problem) What if he started winning? (Take your beating like a man, he starts stomping then I step in) blah blah blah.
Having not had a fight since I stopped drinking and having only ever really had alcohol fuelled streetfights, this was new territory for me. I wasn't really sure what to do, my mate was in the right, DYG was acting the fool, but I knew he would get beaten badly and I wasn't sure I had witnessed any "abuse" as such, so morally I was conflicted. I didn't have these moral dilemmas while drinking.
My question to you is, when this **** kicked off, should I have let the texting trail go cold with that chick as it inevitably did?