May 22, 2011
THE TIME I GOT HIT IN THE FACE.

by Bobby May

There were eight of us. Four guys. Four girls. It was early 2008, and I was still 17.

The house parties that consumed the holidays following high school continued well past the New Year. Deep into the early morning we figured we’d call it a night, filing into two vehicles.

House parties weren’t the only component of the weekend routine. It was a given that after we all found our way into our respective vehicles, we would almost automatically head in the direction of whatever 24 hour fast food joint was running at the time. That night I felt like a Big Mac. Yes. I was actually intending to buy two of them. I sat in the backseat half excited, half trying to stay awake.

MC DONALDS, ROCKDALE. 4:02AM. THE PARKING LOT.

The cars were parked and we stood in the barren parking lot, wondering if the place was even open. On closer inspection, we found that the main part of the restaurant was closed, however the drive-thru was completely open for our convenience.

I instinctively headed back to the car assuming we would be ordering from our cars as we drove through the drive-thru, until one of us said, “No, we’ll just walk through the drive-thru and order at the window on foot.” I had never heard of anyone ever doing this at any time. “Yeah everyone does it. All the time.”

The three other chivalrous young gentleman and me offer to order for the entire group and return with the goods. I deem it necessary to name the other three people: Oliver, Patrick and Jason. I’ve been friends with these gentlemen all throughout high school and in many ways we’re all exactly like each other.. thin, innocent (for the most part), and irrationally overkind to all women.

We approach the drive-thru window on foot, and the employee was as confused as I was. I didn’t quite understand this. Why didn’t we just order from the car? Nevertheless, the staff began to take our order. What confounded me was the fact that though our ordering methods caught this man off guard, the staff surrounding the register seemed to get everything absolutely wrong. We read our order out several times, correcting them as they read it back completely wrong. “TWO BIG MACS. NO, JUST THE BURGERS” I remember stressing to them. The staff literally took forever.

A taxi emerged suddenly in the drive-thru queue, obviously unsure of what four weedy looking teenagers were doing ordering on foot at a drive-thru.

"WHAT’S THE HOLD UP, SWEETHEART?!", the taxi’s passenger queried angrily. The man had a strong American accent. It was a fair enough question, although, I didn’t understand the sweetheart bit. We began to explain to The American, “Mate, the staff are taking ages, and—”

The American emerged from the taxi quicker than anything. As he approached us with undeniable vigour, four things became clear:

  1. He doubled our size collectively.
  2. He was definitely on drugs. Coke if I had to guess.
  3. He was extremely pissed off at us.
  4. He had a nice jacket and was well-dressed.

"WHAT?! WHAT DID YOU SAY SWEETHEART? WHAT?!"

We made an American man very angry, which is something the four of us have never encountered before. Not knowing how to handle the situation we began to explain in the best way we could, “The staff. They’re taking ages. We don’t know what’s going on..”

An extremely uncomfortable silence followed. At this point The American obviously didn’t have a case toward us, though his strong passion of intimidating the four of us did not let up…

"YEAH, KEEP WALKIN’, SWEETHEART. I LIVE TWO BLOCKS FROM HERE. I WILL FUCK YOU UP. I’LL SEE YOU IN TWENTY MINUTES, SWEETHEART."

With that, we continued silent as The American returned to his taxi.

Quite fittingly at that moment our order was ready, allowing us to escape from this entirely scary and awkward ordeal. We were still unsure of what the fuck just happened, but we kept walking like he told us to. It took a couple of steps before Jason broke the silence, "We could have so taken that cunt, eh." The high fives ensued between us and the mood was fine again. As we returned to the group, I knew in a few moments I’d finally be enjoying my order completely safe in an open Mc Donalds parking lot.

"Some guy was trying to start us!", we told the girls as we recounted an exaggerated version of events. We made a strong point of how The American backed down and that was that. The girls didn’t seem to care.

And so finally I sat down in the big circle with my bag of food. Holding the burger in front of my face about ready to bite in, a large figure emerged from the side of the eye. It was approaching us at an alarming rate. No one else seemed to notice as the figure made contact…

"WHAT DID YOU SAY, SWEETHEART?!"


The American kicks me right across the face and I drop to the floor, holding my face together.

Screaming ensues. Someone says, "WHAT THE FUCK?!" while I lay there thinking the same. Completely dazed on the ground, my mind jumps to the absolute worst possible outcome. I was convinced that I was probably going to die. The American then followed the swift kick to my face with a stomp on my arm.

The screaming continues, however I still lay there. I was kicked in the face and stomped on, but then there was nothing. As I returned to reality, I picked myself up still holding my face. I took a step and nearly hobbled over before I opened my eyes to see an image that I will never erase from my memory:

The American was on the ground in a fetal position, as Oliver, Jason and Patrick were beating the shit out of him.

I began to take a couple steps forward, while the boys were interchangeably kicking and punching the American in the face and spine. In addition to this, they were ripping pieces of his suede jacket apart. The American’s watch came apart and they smashed it on the very ground before him.

People walking the streets of Rockdale were running toward the scene, and The American’s taxi came around as he crawled in the backseat. Before he managed to shut the car door, one of the girls cried “GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE! WE’RE ONLY FOURTEEN!” To this day, I’m still puzzled as to why she said that.

We sat around the parking lot still unsure about what just happened. My face was kicked in and numb which garnered some attention. Though the event in which three of my friends erupted and completely beat the shit out of a person (with no prior experience in beating the shit out of a person) had the real attention. We spoke about it for a few minutes before deciding to head home. Before I left I remembered to take the extra Big Mac I bought with me. I knew there was a reason I bought two.

And that was the only fight I’ve ever been in.



Have you ever been kicked in the face for no reason? Did you get a chance to fuck the other guy up like my friends did? Shoot me a response.

Photobucket

  1. bobbymay posted this