Taking a Jab on the Chin from a Total Stranger

Living in San Francisco has been quite a struggle since we moved here a few months back–competing to get an apartment lease, negotiating with exploitative bosses and just simply trying to eke out a living. This morning that existential struggle turned physical as I found myself in a fist fight with a total stranger!  

I honestly can’t remember the last time I was in a real fight, but I’m sure it was before I finished my little league baseball career. I mean, I actually had to put up my dukes against a wide-eyed, crazy man with a huge chip on his shoulder that could  only matched by the magnitude of his insecurity. I was warned this was a tough San Francisco neighborhood, but never considered the notion to be taken literally.

Needless to say, I was caught off guard. Imagine me heading to a BBQ, carrying a backpack and an 8-pound puppy when this guy comes up from behind and starts punching at me. The guys on Ultimate Fighting at least have the luxury of knowing the fight is coming. They work out, train, at least leave their puppies at home—then focus on the fight ahead. My mind, on the other hand, was totally on BBQ and puppies (you know, normal stuff) when this danger came a-knocking.

When he approached me, my first instinct was step aside, as I do everyday on the sidewalk. Yet when the fists neared my face, I surprised myself when I suddenly fought back. I just reacted without thinking. Of course, that couldn’t have been his excuse because he walked almost an entire block to come find me!  Sure, I glanced at him as I passed by, but what would possess him to get out of his car, walk an entire block, and start a fist fight with someone he’s never seen before? If the roles were reversed, I’d have to be pretty damn sure I was actually insulted before doing anything. Or at least be sure that the stranger even opened his mouth (which I didn’t)! For all he knows, I could have just been telling him “good morning!” He was parallel parked in a bus stop, listening to loud gangster rap at 9:00am.  I must have just strolled into his field of vision at the same moment an insulting rap lyric entered his ears. He projected lyrics onto me, and had no recourse but to seek revenge against his own imaginary slur.

I see and hear strangers arguing on the street everyday in my neighborhood. Mostly, they are either overly political homeless or cash-strapped drug users. Yes, they all look, act (and smell) crazy when they shout at someone else from across the street.  Yet here I am dropping f-bombs to guy a half-block away with 30 pedestrians staring back at me. How I should reserve judgment!

I have now become one of them.

A 10-step account of the action, which I must later document in comic book form (All Rights Reserved)!

1. Man walks down the street, with a backpack and a puppy.
2. Man passes parked car, with mad-whak gangsta rap coming out of the windows.
3. Crazy guy in car begins yelling and cursing.
4. Man continue strolling down the block thinking it’s just another neighborhood crazy argument in a crazy neighborhood.
5. A block later, the cursing gets louder and…footsteps 
6. POW!! a shot to the man’s chin!!
7. Keeping his cool, man sets puppy down while skillfully dodging a flurry punches left and right.
8. Man throws off  his backpack and jacket, hockey-player style, and powers up for a toe-to-toe fistfight.
9. Crazy guy, clutched with fear, back peddles, leaving the normal man dreaming of all the blows I would have landed. 
10. Verbal insults reign down on all sides, ironically directing at the crazy guy 10x the number of curses he originally imagined.

Epilogue: Man picks up his coat, backpack and puppy as he continues on to his previously scheduled BBQ. Meanwhile ninjas come out of nowhere and start wailing on guitars.