Blogging Out of One Eye is Kinda Fun
In case some of you didn’t know, the local professional basketball team here in
It became painfully obvious to me with about 4 minutes left that
We decided to begin the evening at our favorite watering hole Tavern in The Grove. The bartender there, who we call Uncle Neal, is a borderline friend, and Johnson's #1 man-crush. Uncle Neal is an interesting character. He is about 33 years old, holds a law degree from UM, but has instead decided that slinging draft beer at a grimy college bar is a better way of life. I can’t really blame him, as he makes as much if not more than a typical young associate or prosecutor, but only works three nights a week and gets to bang college girls on a weekly basis. He is, at least to some, a hero. At any rate, Uncle Neal had lost a bet with Graig and my roommate on the outcome of the series, and they went to collect.
I knew something was wrong when he ignored us for about the first ten minutes we were inside. He finally looked over and told my boys “Look, I’ll give you your money. Not today, not tomorrow, but sometime next week.” With that, he gave us a pitcher of Bud Light and we went over to our customary corner table. Of course, by this point the table was occupied by some Javi’s and Jose’s, so we opted to stand and wait for them to leave.
And they left. Or so we thought. As Juan and Marcos got up, my roommate and I sat down, taking our customary position at the back corner table. We have occupied that table since 1999, so once we sit down, we’re not going anywhere. Unfortunately, Pedro and Ricardo did not understand this, and upon returning from their trip to the men’s room, expected their table back. Now I was feeling charitable and told them we could share it, which they apparently felt was an affront to their Latin Machismo. So they asked again and I said, “No, but we can share.” To which one responded “Tell your boy to get the fuck up.” I informed Oscar and Frank that I was not “my boy’s” boss, and that they would have to request this of him themselves. Which they did, to which my roommate responded with a kiss blown in their direction, which they responded to with a beer to his face, which he responded to with a beer back, which they responded to with a flipped table.
At this point, I was trying to break it up. I did not want our reputation at the Tavern soiled, and I didn’t want the night to end in violence. So I tried to separate my roommate and Graig, who had now unwittingly been thrown into the fray, from Paco and Martin. This was perhaps the poorest decision I made since I said “Yeah, writing a blog might be fun.” It did not occur to me that at this point, the fight was already out of control so I may as well try and get some White Dade Rage out on Manny and Joel. Instead, I continued trying to separate everyone and was thusly punched in the head multiple times by both Carlos and Enrique and by my roommate. Funny, since they were all swinging at each other and not me. Basically, aside from Graig getting hit in the head with a pitcher and whatever shots he and my roommate got in on the Hialeah All Stars, I took every punch in the fight. And all I did was keep pushing people away from each other. I guess it is often the biggest guy in the fight who throws the least punches, but next time, I told my roommate, just tell me to hit somebody so this doesn’t happen again. The fight finally ended with Uncle Neal choking out my roommate saying “I’ll fucking kill you right now. Get the fuck out of here!”
So, sorry Johnson, all those nights you spent with Uncle Neil have now been nullified by the incredulous actions of Luis and Antonio. I apologize for not realizing the fight was out of control and getting in some licks, but I promise it will not happen again. I don’t like fighting, I think it is stupid. But if you’re put in a position where it is either slug a guy or get caught in the crossfire and hit by friendly and not-so-friendly fire, you gotta come out swinging. My bad. I’m sure the Marines would be ashamed. The lesson here: If I ever say the words “I probably shouldn’t go out tonight. I’ll probably get in a fight,’ listen to me. I know what I’m talking about.