The Night I Learned to Scooby Doo Run

There are colleges that have concerts, celebrity guest speakers - that kind of thing. Mine was no different, really, though the speakers usually were of a serious nature...

Until my junior year, when we hosted the Gin Blossoms. (Hey, Jealoussssssyyyyyyy!)

The student body was excited to have such a recreational event. I mean, sure, who wouldn't be? (as this was back when the Gin Blossoms were just coming off of being huge)

Now, by "excited", I mean to say that when your mosh pit, yes mosh pit, is going so bloody nuts that the lead singer stops and remarks "wow, you guys are REALLY worked up down there"...you know it's getting a bit silly. And by "silly", I mean that it turned into a freaking brawl.

This is the part where I must introduce a couple of my (alias-ed) friends. Gravy, my then-boyfriend (named for the on-going friendly argument he and I had regarding how to label marinara whilst in Philadelphia...sauce vs. gravy), Bruiser and Archer.

Gravy actually only figures briefly in this story - as he had studying to do, and therefore was not in attendance.

Bruiser is one of my favorite people of all ever loving time. Suave, talented, good dresser, great dancer and while we weren't terribly close in school, I've had the pleasure of getting to know him better after school ended.

Archer is one of the coolest guys around. Smart, funny, kind...and very even tempered. He's the guy you can go to when the feces has hit the ventilation system, knowing that he'll be calm, collected and ready to fight that dragon with you. In the years I'd known him (and the crap I've seen him face), I'd never seen him lose his equilibrium.

Until that night.

So, as I reflect on this story, it strikes me that I can't remember where any of my girlfriends were...getting drinks? Somewhere else in the fray? Anyway...

Archer, Bruiser and I were in the back, listening to tunes, laughing a bit at the ridiculousness of body surfing at a Gin Blossoms concert...when said body surfer kicked Archer in the face.

On fucking purpose.

I pause here to point out something. Having no experience in it, I have no idea if this is true for women, but there are Three Special Looks That Cross a Man's Face an Instant Before the Big Damn Action. (obviously, they all do many more looks than that - but stick with me; these are special looks) In real life, in movies, watching the interaction as a third party...they are the same for each man. I mean, the damn same. For all of the variety of expression to be found over the faces of all of the men on the planet, and even just the ones you know - there are three expressions that cross cultures. I believe it has something to do with Darwinism....and these three:

LOOK #1 - I am about to kiss you
LOOK #2 - I am about to have sex with you
LOOK #3 - You have crossed the goddamned line and I am about to hit you. Hard.

Now, my experiences (of this kind) with men have been fairly limited - (and it's probably important to say right now, that I've never been struck by a boyfriend or my husband) so I've asked around. My circle of friends is fairly diverse (economic, social, national, ethnic backgrounds)...and this little instinct of mine is, apparently, spot on the money.

Remember the part about Archer being even tempered? Imagine my surprise when, on his face, I saw #3.

Oh, did I mention his size? Big guy. Big, strong guy.

I've been witness to lots of fist fights. I've seen lots of #3s over the years - but usually on boys and men who had the means to reign in #3 (or at least the presence of mind to remember that they don't want to go to jail). This was NOT one of those times.

Nor was there time for talking, redirecting...or anything other than "holy-crap-how-do-I-keep-him-from-committing-murder"?

Again, big guy. A good, 7-8 inches taller than I am. Now I'm not saying that my on the fly (oh let's emphasize the flying part) half-nelson wasn't effective...I do believe that having my body weight swinging from his neck like a 5"6 pendulum did slow him down. But not by much. It did, however, give him something else to do (once the blood lust died down a bit, he did work out that there was something awfully heavy latched around his right shoulder) and bought enough time for him to avoid a felony charge.

I call that a win.

And then someone from the crowd punched me. Right in the face.

I'd love to pretend that I'm even tempered...but I'm not. However, I do have a fairly good appreciation for the damage I could do if I ever let my temper and my fists have a playdate. I'm very good at staying out of physical altercations.

But I got punched. Right in the face. What. The. Fuck.

So I take off. At a run. After about 10 seconds I realize that I am getting absolutely nowhere. How could this be? Seriously, I'm no track star, but my legs are fucking strong and I'm still getting...nowhere?

I look down. Bruiser had my back. Or my hips, as it turned out. Personally, I love that he had the presence of mind not to bother holding down my arms, not to bother reasoning with me. He just found a way of keeping my happy ass planted, and went with that.

Frankly, once I realized I had just done my first official Scooby Doo Run, I laughed. Nothing really kills rage like cracking up, so I too was now in the safe zone.

Girlfriends came back. Enjoyed the rest of the concert. Walked back to our rooms.

I called Gravy to tell him about the night's adventures...I mean, really, as badly behaved as we all were (near brawl and all), there is something to be said about the adrenaline rush that comes with that kind of experience - good, bad or ugly, when it's over, you feel like you've had THE BEST TIME EVER.

ME: Oh, you shoulda' been there...it was outta' control...lalalalla....fight....body surfer....had Archer in a half nelson....Bruiser had to keep me out of the fight.... (yeah, still swingin' high on that rush)
GRAVY: Wow, I'm so sorry. I should have been there. I should have been there to protect you...
ME: and then this one guy swung his...wait, what?
GRAVY: I'm your boyfriend. I should have been there to protect you.

Two things became clear to me, then.

1 - I'm pretty sure he missed the point of the story
2 - I'm pretty sure there's going to be no explaining it adequately

Ah well. It was a shame he couldn't get the same (if vicarious) enjoyment from the night that I had...but takes all types.

I showered...went to bed...woke up...started getting dressed...

And felt a deep wave of gratefulness that my relationship with Gravy was a fairly innocent one.

There were two bruises.

One on each hip.

Shaped like hands.

Those would've been even harder to explain.

POST SCRIPT:

I just got to see Bruiser a couple months ago. Just like when any old friends get together, the rehashing of well known stories is a tried and true favorite pastime.

He and I were in his kitchen, cleaning up, retelling this story to each other...laughing...and I made a offhand comment...

ME: and you know, the funniest part really was the bruising.
BRUISER: what?
ME: the bruising. You know, the next day?

(he slowly turns to me...gives me the head tilted "come again?" look)

ME (catching on): I never told you?
BRUISER (also catching on...imagine him saying in a low, slow "are you seriously about to say what I think you're about to say" tone): Nooooooooo.......
(more tilting...eyes a little squinty, now)
ME (counting out each bruise on each hip with my own digits to illustrate): Bruises, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, and 10
BRUISER: NO SHIT? SERIOUSLY?

(insert some hard core laughter riiiiight here)

Turns out, it took me about 15 years to get around to telling him the punchline.