Reaction
There was a situation once that altered my life very much. It played out largely as a reaction to the actions of others. I would not likely advise anyone to do what I had. It was a weird night that I still do not completely remember.
I was a freshman in college. People who knew me then have likely heard this story a million times over and from different perspectives. Heck, my father tossed out a reference to it in his speech at my wedding. I wish I could take credit for the bravery people suppose. It was mostly a reaction.
Faced with an innocent man being punched I interceded. This set about a strange sequence of events that I suppose I cannot correctly depict without the assistance of others. I still think of this night. I think that others do too from time to time for I get wind of this sometimes when I encounter people that were there.
Anyhow, the kid got punched. I reacted by grabbing the offender. He reacted by trying to punch me. I reacted by throwing a lock hold on the guy that was something I don't think I had ever done or would ever tell someone to do in such a situation. I lurched over him and locked my arms under his and over his head. He became docile. I started yelling at people to calm down. This is the point in the story where my memory gets hazy. Someone did something bad to me. I used to take pride in the fact that it did not drop me. But the fact is it left my skull split literally and sent me to the hospital later. Sometime before that the guy who hit me got to show me what he used, up close and personal. It was a sawed-off shotgun. I was forced to be submissive stood poised for the unimaginable. Luckily this never came to be. Thankfully.
The part that was hardest to reconcile, the part that made the least sense, was that my friends never interceded for me. Many people were there and made no move to aid me when the guy hit me, nor when he made threats to shoot me from point blank range. I still wonder about their reactions. I found one person had locked himself in the bathroom when I went to clean my room. I heard a lot of bravado after the fact and vividly remember the absolute dearth of it in the actual moment. Many guys that were not there assured me they would have done differently. I doubt that for the most part. I wonder what I would have done if not in my shoes that night. Someone asked me why I never questioned them on it. What would I say? How could they possibly answer. It was a quick succession of events that no one foresaw and left me with stitches in my scalp.
The irony of it all was I was likely the last guy in the group you would guess would find himself in such a predicament. I was always level-headed. I did the best in school. I protected myself from many things that would have detracted from my larger goals. But I was the guy that reacted and almost paid a dear cost for it. Instinct took over. The urges and drives below the conscious level. I do not live my life with regret or dream for life to be other than it is, but I could have done without that experience and the aftermath as well. My parents feared me to return home and face the possibility of me facing intimidation tactics to preempt the pending court case about the incident. The guy was already a felon and facing time before that fateful night. Some friends devised means to make retributive attacks on him, knowing his girlfriend and such. Others talked of buying guns. One began wearing a pistol from that night forward.
What a weird thing it is to have a reaction.
I was a freshman in college. People who knew me then have likely heard this story a million times over and from different perspectives. Heck, my father tossed out a reference to it in his speech at my wedding. I wish I could take credit for the bravery people suppose. It was mostly a reaction.
Faced with an innocent man being punched I interceded. This set about a strange sequence of events that I suppose I cannot correctly depict without the assistance of others. I still think of this night. I think that others do too from time to time for I get wind of this sometimes when I encounter people that were there.
Anyhow, the kid got punched. I reacted by grabbing the offender. He reacted by trying to punch me. I reacted by throwing a lock hold on the guy that was something I don't think I had ever done or would ever tell someone to do in such a situation. I lurched over him and locked my arms under his and over his head. He became docile. I started yelling at people to calm down. This is the point in the story where my memory gets hazy. Someone did something bad to me. I used to take pride in the fact that it did not drop me. But the fact is it left my skull split literally and sent me to the hospital later. Sometime before that the guy who hit me got to show me what he used, up close and personal. It was a sawed-off shotgun. I was forced to be submissive stood poised for the unimaginable. Luckily this never came to be. Thankfully.
The part that was hardest to reconcile, the part that made the least sense, was that my friends never interceded for me. Many people were there and made no move to aid me when the guy hit me, nor when he made threats to shoot me from point blank range. I still wonder about their reactions. I found one person had locked himself in the bathroom when I went to clean my room. I heard a lot of bravado after the fact and vividly remember the absolute dearth of it in the actual moment. Many guys that were not there assured me they would have done differently. I doubt that for the most part. I wonder what I would have done if not in my shoes that night. Someone asked me why I never questioned them on it. What would I say? How could they possibly answer. It was a quick succession of events that no one foresaw and left me with stitches in my scalp.
The irony of it all was I was likely the last guy in the group you would guess would find himself in such a predicament. I was always level-headed. I did the best in school. I protected myself from many things that would have detracted from my larger goals. But I was the guy that reacted and almost paid a dear cost for it. Instinct took over. The urges and drives below the conscious level. I do not live my life with regret or dream for life to be other than it is, but I could have done without that experience and the aftermath as well. My parents feared me to return home and face the possibility of me facing intimidation tactics to preempt the pending court case about the incident. The guy was already a felon and facing time before that fateful night. Some friends devised means to make retributive attacks on him, knowing his girlfriend and such. Others talked of buying guns. One began wearing a pistol from that night forward.
What a weird thing it is to have a reaction.
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3 Comments:
Yes, yes I still think of that night. It happens on occasion and it usually leaves me more curious as to why the memory lingers than any other actual emotion. I am years and years removed; I have overcome whatever fallout there was long ago. My headaches ended by Christmas that year. I've been able to sleep and dream comfortably for years. My friends never pursued anything and we all basically left the night in the past.
Yet it lingers as a recollection that invites itself to dinner without being invited. An awkward friend I have learned to endure rather than accept. It is not a pleasant memory. I have no doubt this means I have unresolved issues. Especially regarding the people that were there that night and watched the events unfold.
Happy Easter.
I am a rational person for the most part. I believe two recent events are to blame for thinking of 1996:
1) While in Kansas I was corraled into shooting shotguns for sport. I was too nice to pose much of a resistance, complying with two rounds fired. It would have been hard to tell relations I had not met before that the last time I saw a shotgun it was pointed in my face with malicious intent.
2) The double homicide in the neighborhood was a startling event that must have jogged old memories and emotions about guns in general.
I realized the reason for the recurrance of this moment in time. Ironically, it has nothing to do with that night or anyone of my friends past or present. This makes sense since I was barely friends with most the people there and have basically lost touch with the few that were friends.
Another, distinct emotion was manifesting itself through that memory. Thanks to a nice chat with a friend I realized that people assuredly were doing something to at least try and de-escalate the situation for sure. My memory of it is very skewed and the rememberance as it turned out was a pyschological cue, not a traumatic flashback.
Curious I know, I cannot explain it any better.
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