Oh man. City life rules. Ha!
I was walking home from Chi Kung tonight, imagining what I would tell my future Japanese students about life in the United States, when this dude shuffled up behind me and asked for a cigarette. I didn’t have one, I don’t smoke. The shuffling got very fast all of a sudden.
I pivoted to see this black kid crouch-walking towards me with a push-broom handle held out to one side, two-handed, like you would hold a baseball bat.
Awkward social situation: Is this what it looks like? Do I hit him? What do I do? I started sinking into my stance.
When he swung, I threw a generic karate block that broke the stick with a really reassuring SNAP, then punched him in the face. Confusion. It didn’t feel like a solid blow, and his two friends were moving in on me, so I turned and ran for brightly-lit 15th avenue.
They chased me for about a block before they gave up, yelling, “what up, my nigga!” “what up, blood!” “what up!” Dumbass kids, their pointless existence leads them to this. I blame America. At the same time, I think you forfeit your privileges in the moment you attack someone. They were probably expecting to just run up and crack me in the back of the head.
Anyway. I got away, they got away. I had a bottle of liniment with me (for Chi-Kung, yo) so I rubbed some on my arm as I walked home and it doesn’t look like it’s going to bruise up too bad.
Hello, class. Let me tell you about life in America.