In Retrospect...

Ambulance Driver has, per his usual standard of excellence, a "must read" post up. He tells two starkly different stories of two patients that stick out in his memory and the two radically different paths they took.

The first story reminded me of something that I did when I was YDFoC.

First, though, a little background. One thing that I will not tolerate is a man hitting a woman. Under no circumstances. It is simply not done. One of the VERY few times I have ever actually punched someone, it was my own cousin because he pushed my little sister down. I will not stand for it, and if you are a man and you abuse a woman in my presence, you had best be prepared to fight.

So, I'm cruising Hampton Beach (local meat market) in my pickup truck with a big group of buddies. We've got the radio blaring, the windows are open, we've got the good-looking guys in the back of the truck acting as bait for the girls, and my buddy Todd and I are in the cab. We're crawling along in traffic, livin' large and enjoying life, when...

"Did you see that? Did you fucking see that?" Todd yells out.

"Huh? What was it? How big were her ti-" I started to reply.

"Right over there. Look at that piece of shit" Todd pointed the guy out to me.

Picture in your mind the stereotypical snot-nosed punk lowlife. He's got the hat on backwards, the sleeveless shirt, the jeans three sizes too large.

And he is open-handedly slapping the shit out of his girlfriend. Loud, audible, visible slaps. Her head recoils noticeably with each hit.

{WHUMP}

I drive the truck up over a curb and slam the gearshift into park. The door is still open as I tear-ass across the street with Todd close behind me. Guys are spilling out of the back of the truck wondering what the fuck is going on.

Now I'm in the kid's face. At the time, I'm running about 220 pounds, and I'm lifting weights every day. I'm 6' of slicked-back hair, muscle-bound Italian anger, and I'm right in this skinny dude's personal space. He's about four or five inches shorter than me, and can't weigh more than 150 pounds.

"You think you're a tough guy? Why don't you take a slap at me?" I am taunting him. I am daring him.

"Go ahead. Take your best shot, hero. I won't even block it.

Don't tell me you're a pussy."

By now there's a big crowd of people all around us, and I am in this guy's face. I'm questioning his manhood. I'm impugning his masculinity. I'm casting aspersions as to the status of lower primates in his family tree.

All the while, I am all but begging him to take a poke at me. Taunting won't do it. Openly emasculating him in front of the entire beach isn't cutting it. He is too fucking chickenshit to do anything except glower at me.

It doesn't take long before the cops start to roll on the scene. Before they get within earshot, I lean in close to the guy and tell him, in no uncertain terms, that if I *EVER* see him LAY ONE FINGER on his girlfriend again, I will gladly break every bone in his arm and my entire group will swear I was two states over. Three of my friends nod grimly. I'm not certain, but I think he peed in his pants.

Since I technically hadn't touched the guy, the cops just broke the circle up and sent us on our separate ways.

---

Looking back, I realize that, in all likelihood, that poor girl probably got the living shit slapped out of her later on that night.

The only possible counter would be that she saw what a fucking worthless pussy he was and kicked the crap out of him the next time he touched her.

At least I sure hope that's what happened...