it's over. move to somnia.

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Hold Your Peace

I almost got into a bar fight last night. A large group of us were at the Scuderia, a ridiculously big bar with a hilariously awful cover band, celebrating my classmate Allison's birthday. I was chatting with an acquaintance (X) who introduced me to a friend of his (Y) who is in town for the weekend. Y was bragging about how he'd taken X to a strip club the night before, which...well, X is married with a small child. Maybe it's cool with everyone involved, I don't know. Jokingly, I flicked him on the forehead and reprimanded his for his bad influence. We went on talking about whatever else. About ten minutes later, Y suddenly turned to me and said, "Don't you touch me again."

"What?"
"You touch me again and I'll beat you to a bloody pulp."
"Really? You know, I'm bigger than you." Y is a good six to eight inches shorter than me. Probably wasn't the best thing to say, but I'd had a couple of beers.
"Come on. Let's go outside. I'll beat you to a bloody pulp." He was smiling, but serious. I reflected.
I turned to X and asked, "Just how drunk is he?"
"On a scale of 1 to 10...I'd say about a 3." X was amused. I wasn't.

Y repeated his threat again, but hadn't yet put up his dukes. The thing is, I was severely tempted to just pop him one right there, break his nose, let him have it. I've never been in a fistfight, but it sounds exhilarating. Still, I guess in the end I'm a fairly mature person: I just turned and walked away.


Oh, I also spent most of the day in Venice. That was nice.
peachy as always, Mike at 12:39 PM