All I got is Friday on my mind...
1. Craniofacial injuries are so hot right now.
On Friday night a pint glass, thrown with malice split, my chin. Said split subsequently required two stitches to close. I'm fine and will have, at worst, a small scar that will be mostly obscured by my beard.[1]
2. Two men enter, one man leave.
A goth club held in a pub in a relatively dodgy area is always going to be a risky proposition and without proper - and adequate[2] - security will be a strange place to be. Early on I broke up a fight when the bouncer seemed to be nowhere around - or just reluctant to do his job. This really should have been taken as an indicator of things to come and our cue to get out of there, but how often does lightning strike twice I thought?
My memories are sort of hazy around here due to alcohol, adrenaline and general confusion.
At some point in the night a load of "regular" punters were allowed into the pub. Sometime later most of them had left and the last to leave was a girl helping her tremendously drunk friend out the door. A friend of mine laughed at an sms he'd received, which the girl then took to be derisive laughter at her and her pissed mate and proceeded to scream at him. He told them to go away, one of their friends came back in to yell at him, we stood up and continued to tell them to go away, a lot more of their friends came back in[3], we exchanged some blows and I retreated behind my friend, they backed away, mouthed off for a few minutes, then started throwing glassware at us.
I remember seeing a sparkle in the air, but didn't realise what it was until much later.
I also remember wondering why, if only the inside of my mouth was cut, was there so much blood on my face, on my hands, and on the floor. It wasn't until someone handed me a wad of paper did I realise what had actually happened.[4]
Then hot lights and cold steel and sleeping all of Saturday away.
3. Take you to the fucking cleaners.
I've been trying to unpack this in my head over the last few days and I come back to the fact that it's just a ridiculously out of proportion response.
A lot of schools of fighting will say that a fight should be finished as fast as possible by whatever means necessary. This is something I agree with wholeheartedly if you're in a war zone or you're attacked without provocation or mugged, etc. The above scenario escalated way above what it should have and makes me wonder if one of the "normals" had a knife or a gun, would they have used it? How do you draw a line from perceived insult to throwing a glass at someone's face? Whenever I raised a complaint about the pain, Caz was quick to point out that it's a small wound compared to what could have been; gauged eye, slashed cheek, knocked out teeth.
This was not a situation that required that level of response. There was no threat to subdue, no assailant to repulse. This was chest thumping and dick sizing and I'm finding it really hard to reconcile someone feeling like a big man with throwing a glass across a room. I find myself getting angrier and angrier at the sheer mindlessness of it all, but then I realise that these are actions from a world I know near nothing about. Both the guy who took the x-ray of my face and the man who stitched my wound[5] told me that glass to the face injuries are some of the most common they get at the emergency room, what the cock is that shit?
4. He has a whiskey drink, he has a lager drink...
I'm also mindful of the fact that I was pretty drunk, but I'm also quite mindful that I've always considered goth clubs to be a safe space in which to drink. I get rolling drunk at home, I wouldn't at a football match. I don't want to live my life like some Hank Rollins "Ever Vigilant" stage show, but I'm also a bit disappointed at being the star in one of those "how will your night turn out?" ads.
It's eye opening to sit on the side of the road spitting blood into the gutter.
5. The first rule is...
Or am I feeling this way because I like to think that I can handle myself and in this incident that opportunity was taken out of my hands? There's a part of me that really wants a repeat of the scenario so I can influence events in a different direction, but I know that said direction would be darker, more destructive, and I’d probably come off worse still. Ego should be quiet now.
When all is said and done, being Batman would be fucking hard.
***
[1] As well as a cracking good story and some excellent photos.
[2] One inside, one outside at least, surely?
[3] Pretty glad that a load of them had already gone off in a cab.
[4] I have to thank a wonderful girl, Kara, who I'd only just met for brining me paper towels to press against my wound and salt water with which to rinse my mouth.
[5] I find myself writing "stitched me up", laughing, and then rephrasing.
On Friday night a pint glass, thrown with malice split, my chin. Said split subsequently required two stitches to close. I'm fine and will have, at worst, a small scar that will be mostly obscured by my beard.[1]
2. Two men enter, one man leave.
A goth club held in a pub in a relatively dodgy area is always going to be a risky proposition and without proper - and adequate[2] - security will be a strange place to be. Early on I broke up a fight when the bouncer seemed to be nowhere around - or just reluctant to do his job. This really should have been taken as an indicator of things to come and our cue to get out of there, but how often does lightning strike twice I thought?
My memories are sort of hazy around here due to alcohol, adrenaline and general confusion.
At some point in the night a load of "regular" punters were allowed into the pub. Sometime later most of them had left and the last to leave was a girl helping her tremendously drunk friend out the door. A friend of mine laughed at an sms he'd received, which the girl then took to be derisive laughter at her and her pissed mate and proceeded to scream at him. He told them to go away, one of their friends came back in to yell at him, we stood up and continued to tell them to go away, a lot more of their friends came back in[3], we exchanged some blows and I retreated behind my friend, they backed away, mouthed off for a few minutes, then started throwing glassware at us.
I remember seeing a sparkle in the air, but didn't realise what it was until much later.
I also remember wondering why, if only the inside of my mouth was cut, was there so much blood on my face, on my hands, and on the floor. It wasn't until someone handed me a wad of paper did I realise what had actually happened.[4]
Then hot lights and cold steel and sleeping all of Saturday away.
3. Take you to the fucking cleaners.
I've been trying to unpack this in my head over the last few days and I come back to the fact that it's just a ridiculously out of proportion response.
A lot of schools of fighting will say that a fight should be finished as fast as possible by whatever means necessary. This is something I agree with wholeheartedly if you're in a war zone or you're attacked without provocation or mugged, etc. The above scenario escalated way above what it should have and makes me wonder if one of the "normals" had a knife or a gun, would they have used it? How do you draw a line from perceived insult to throwing a glass at someone's face? Whenever I raised a complaint about the pain, Caz was quick to point out that it's a small wound compared to what could have been; gauged eye, slashed cheek, knocked out teeth.
This was not a situation that required that level of response. There was no threat to subdue, no assailant to repulse. This was chest thumping and dick sizing and I'm finding it really hard to reconcile someone feeling like a big man with throwing a glass across a room. I find myself getting angrier and angrier at the sheer mindlessness of it all, but then I realise that these are actions from a world I know near nothing about. Both the guy who took the x-ray of my face and the man who stitched my wound[5] told me that glass to the face injuries are some of the most common they get at the emergency room, what the cock is that shit?
4. He has a whiskey drink, he has a lager drink...
I'm also mindful of the fact that I was pretty drunk, but I'm also quite mindful that I've always considered goth clubs to be a safe space in which to drink. I get rolling drunk at home, I wouldn't at a football match. I don't want to live my life like some Hank Rollins "Ever Vigilant" stage show, but I'm also a bit disappointed at being the star in one of those "how will your night turn out?" ads.
It's eye opening to sit on the side of the road spitting blood into the gutter.
5. The first rule is...
Or am I feeling this way because I like to think that I can handle myself and in this incident that opportunity was taken out of my hands? There's a part of me that really wants a repeat of the scenario so I can influence events in a different direction, but I know that said direction would be darker, more destructive, and I’d probably come off worse still. Ego should be quiet now.
When all is said and done, being Batman would be fucking hard.
***
[1] As well as a cracking good story and some excellent photos.
[2] One inside, one outside at least, surely?
[3] Pretty glad that a load of them had already gone off in a cab.
[4] I have to thank a wonderful girl, Kara, who I'd only just met for brining me paper towels to press against my wound and salt water with which to rinse my mouth.
[5] I find myself writing "stitched me up", laughing, and then rephrasing.