The guy outweighed me by thirty or forty pounds, but he had no idea how to fight. Each time he threw a punch I would see it coming, move my head and counter with a jab of my own. I was winning the fight, but I still had to be careful. If he hit me with one of those big shots, I knew that I’d probably go down.
Then I saw my opportunity. He had thrown himself slightly off balance with another big miss. I stepped to his side, wrapped my arms around his waist; picked him about two feet off the ground, and then drove him back down into the pavement.
I heard him gasp as the wind was knocked out of his lungs. He tried to get back up, but he was far too slow. He barely had his head off the ground before I was on top of him, my fists raining down onto his face.
By the time Mike pulled me off of him, big Rick was bleeding profusely and only semi-conscious.
Mike hollered, “We have to go!”
He was right. The cops would surely be on the scene soon, and I didn’t want to be here when they did. Mike had left the other three guys in pretty bad shape as well, so at best we’d end our night in the drunk tank, at worst, we’d end up with assault charges or some other crazy shit.
Mike and I took off running. We ran down one alley, then another.
Neither of us said a word about where we were going, we both knew that Mike’s place was close, only about six blocks away.
We made it only two before both of us were too tired to run anymore. Even if a guy is in pretty good shape drinking, fighting and running don’t mix very well. After catching our breath, Mike and I walked the rest of the way and talked about what had just happened.
By the time we got to Mike’s place it was late. I wound up spending the night on his couch, and woke up in the morning with a massive hang-over. The sore spot on the side of my head throbbed as I listened to Mike’s pissed off wife barking at him for coming home so late, getting into a fight, as well as anything else she could think of at that point in time.
I went upstairs and when his wife saw me she looked even more pissed-off.
“Well,” she said. “I’m going shopping. Mike, you can watch the girls.”
With that statement Tonya slammed the door and was gone.
“Wow,” I said. “I thought she’d never leave.”
Mike and I laughed then we sat around drinking coffee for about an hour and talked about how much the previous night reminded us of our early twenties.
At 11:30 John called my cell and asked if I wanted to meet him for all-you-can-eat sushi. I was starving and agreed to meet him at noon.
For my friends and me, sushi isn’t just a meal, it’s an event. We all take great pride in how much raw fish we can fit into our stomachs, spending $20.00 and eating $100.00+ worth of sushi. It usually takes us about three hours to get our fill and this was no exception.
John and I talked about the night before. He made out much better than Mike and I, as he wound up in bed with Natalie and one of the other girls that we were partying with. (What a lucky son-of-a-bitch he is.)
After we ate I went home and crashed on the couch for a couple of hours. I woke at about 6:30 and then jumped in the shower. The water felt good, chasing away the rest of my hang-over. I felt good enough at this point that I was considering calling John to see if he wanted to hook up with the same girls as the night before. I had a bad case of the “Hang-over Hornies” and the thought of maybe fucking Natalie was becoming more and more appealing.