This Snobby B**** Just Kicked Your A**

, , , , , | Legal | December 11, 2020

Years ago, when I was young and optimistic in college, I took up karate. I really have no thought that I would ever need to defend myself. I may have even taken the class because a good-looking male friend said he was taking it.

The day I get my yellow belt, I am running late so I don’t change out of my gi before heading out the alley door of the gym toward the bus stop at the library. A fellow stops me. This is in the capital city and I am often stopped by homeless folks asking for money or just wanting to ramble to another human.

Today, though, I just don’t have the time.

Me: “Sorry, I have to be going.”

He grabs my elbow as I push past and yanks me around. I am shocked.

Guy: “Snobby b****!”

He shoves me against the wall and my head meets the brick quite soundly. Then, he punches me in the face.

And what I’ve learned kicks in. Pardon the pun.

I punch him in the throat three times quickly and he takes a surprised step back. I then kick.

I miss what I am aiming at but connect sharply with his thigh. I hear and feel his femur break.  

He drops to one knee with his broken leg now bent quite grotesquely.

And then, I forget everything I learned, grab him by his hair, and punch him with a roundhouse to the jaw. Both his jaw and my finger break. He falls the rest of the way to the ground.

I stumble to the bus. The driver asks if I am okay. He offers to drop me off at the hospital as I am bleeding from my nose and eye. I am dazed and say I just want to go home. He drops me off at the bottom of the steps to my apartment and I go up slowly.

My roommate sees me come in and frantically asks what happened. I tell her I was mugged behind the gym. She wants me to go to the hospital, too, but I am dazed and tired and say I just want to soak in the tub. She draws me a bath and I just sink in and listen to the ringing in my ears.

I don’t know how much time passes before she comes back into the bathroom and says that the mugger has gotten someone else, too.

I am getting a little less foggy.

Me: “No, I don’t think so.”

Roommate: “No, listen. There was just a story on the news that a fellow was found badly beaten in the alley. They want anyone with information to call.”

Me: “Yeah, the guy who mugged me didn’t mug anyone else. I’m pretty sure the guy they found is the mugger.”

Roommate: “I don’t get it. Who would have beaten him up?”

Me: “Me. I beat him up and left him in the alley. I guess we’d better call the police.”

We do call. An officer comes. I explain what happened and he insists I go to the hospital. My roommate comes with me. We ride in the back of the police car and I half-expect the cop to just take me to jail. My head is still ringing.

I am diagnosed with a broken finger, a cracked eye socket, and a concussion.

The cop sticks around and drives us home. He stops at the convenience store near our house and buys a six-pack of beer.

Cop: “Now, listen. I know you can’t drink this with the meds they just gave you, but you deserve it. I can’t believe anyone would assault someone actually wearing their gi. That makes me laugh every time I think about it.” 

Me: “I only have a yellow belt.”

Cop: “Apparently, that was enough.”

Me: “Well, if I’d done it right, I wouldn’t have a broken finger.”

The cop laughed and drove us back to the apartment, walking us up to the door. He gave us his card and told us to call him personally if we ever needed help.

After that, I took karate a lot more seriously, working my way up to a black belt before graduating from college. I also took my own safety more seriously and went on to teach women’s self-defense. I’ve not punched another human in anger since then and hope I will never have to. I’m a lot more aware of my environment since then.

My hand and face still hurt when it is cold and damp out — my reminder some thirty years later.

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