Sorry, my audience. I completely forgot that Friday I was scheduled to work from 2pm to 3am. Anyway. Where were we?
I released The King of Douchebags; and he immediately turned around and swung his wildest haymaker right at my face. The sloppy, looping, wide punch might have hit me, had it not been for the fact I was about three feet outside his range. When you’re drunk and untrained, gauging how far somebody is when you want to punch them perhaps is difficult.
I put my hands up and out as he began to approach me. He swings at me again, and I circle outside. Not that I know anything about striking, I should mention. But as a grappler, I have enough intuitive sense for both the things I do well and my own limitations. Either stay too far to be effectively struck, or too close – and for god’s sake, don’t stand there looking to exchange. I punch like a goddamn girl, anyway.
[I also make sure to only fight people obviously weaker than me.]
After that second swing, I notice that one of my bouncers and KD’s Fat Friend are wrestling with one another on the street directly outside the club. What the hell has been happening while I was dancing with KD? Keeping one eye on KD (who is still approaching me with the intention of fighting, albeit slowly, drunkenly, slovenly), I moved quickly to pull Bouncer back inside. Bouncer has FF in knee-on-belly when the cops show up blowing whistles and flailing their hands. The authority we have over patrons inside the club does not extend outside the doors, I’m afraid. In principle, fighting in the street could get everyone in trouble, patron and bouncer alike.
Bouncer goes back inside, and FF walks away. But KD is still trying to fight me! He swings another wild one, and I circle out. Again, I’m refusing to engage – because I’ve never been in trouble with the law and am TERRIFIED of the cops. Absolutely terrified of police.
Four uniformed police officers have formed a perimeter around us, ten yards out, and are closing in.
“Hey!” one of them yells. I put my hands up – immediately recognizing a lawful order when I hear one – and keep circling. KD swings at me again. “Stop! STOP! I said–” the police officer puts his hand on the left arm of KD. And in a display of staggering stupidity, KD turns on his heels and punches the officer in the jaw. Jesus Christ. ‘That guy has just entered a world of shit,’ I remember thinking.
The officer temporarily reels from the punch. Having witnessed the whole thing, the other three officers IMMEDIATELY cascade-tackle/takedown O’ Most Unceremonious, Discarded Feminine Hygiene Product. The officer who was struck did not even have time to reply in kind. They cuffed KD, stood him up, and started questioning him.
And out of another display of sheer stupidity, FF showed up again – presumably to rescue KD in some capacity.1 Nice Guy points that moron out to the cops, and they arrest him too.2 Yes, all in a night’s work.
1. That is, until KD found himself “in the rookers of the millicents” as Alex from A Clockwork Orange, would say.
2. Later, I got the story on FF from Bouncer and Nice Guy. Apparently after KD chicken-clucked his way to 2 and I grabbed him, FF immediately punched Bouncer. Nice Guy established a modified, standing back control, and, together with Bouncer (the guy was fat, remember), threw him out. Once out, FF grabbed Bouncer; and in one way or another, they ended up on the ground. Well…now don’t go threatening us with a good time.