Called Out

It happened again, I got threatened at the gym. But this time I wasn’t threatened by the gym itself.

I was officially “called out.”

Here’s the story. Tanya and I were driving through the gym parking lot, trying to find a space that’s actually closer to the gym than our apartment, and this guy is walking in the middle of the road (the little parking lot road). I didn’t see him. Tanya did. She yells. I stop.

Then I get called out. I get the classic “you want a piece of me” pose.

Okay, it’s not like I got close to him or anything. I was driving about two miles an hour. I stopped about ten feet from him. Evidently, that wasn’t far enough for this genius. He got all bent out of shape.

I think that he was embarrassed about flinching.

I apologized. After all, it was my fault for not seeing him. But, Jesus, he just wouldn’t let it go. He just kept standing there with his arms out and an angry betrayed look on his face.

I don’t really know what he was thinking. I mean, I’ve got a car! All he had was a gym towel and about a 3 inch reach advantage. I’ll never understand pedestrians. I apologized! What more did he want?! My first born? He’ll have to fight it away from my mother. I said sorry about 12 times, I’m not exaggerating.

So, after we sat there staring at him for a few more seconds, he finally gave up. He laughed and walked away. I guess he thought I was a pussy or something? Asshole.

I should have gotten out of the car and had a fight right there in the parking lot. I didn’t really want to go to the gym in the first place. Besides, there’s nothing like going to jail on a Tuesday morning to get the blood pumping.

That’s right pal, you won. Feel better? You sure showed me. And in front of my girlfriend no less. And you only had me by about 30 pounds and 4 inches. Wow.

It amazes me the number of people out there just looking for an excuse to fight someone. Why the pretense? Don’t wait for someone to start some “shit,” just start fighting. If they ask you why, just tell them it’s because you’re an idiot. They’ll have to understand because if they don’t, you can just punch a little harder.

Now, this may be hard to believe, but I’ve been beat up a few time in my life. Every time was in West Virginia (except the time that my ex-step brother beat me up. But I sort of deserved that. I told the entire Mead Junior High baseball team that he Playgirls under his bed. In my defense, he was an asshole to me – and he did have Playgirls under his bed). I became a pro at how to get beaten up. I was punched in the face a couple of times, but apart from one black eye, I’ve never been seriously injured.

The problem with my fighting style is that I’m a pacifist. I’ve never fought back. You can’t win many fights that way. So I don’t have any cool stories about beating up the school bully.

But I did make fun of a lot of school bullies.

Oh…wait…now I get it! Don’t make fun of people who can beat you up!

Man, that’s one life lesson I learned a little late.

So, to sum up. If an ill-tempered, roid raging, Neanderthal pedestrian steps out in front of you while you’re driving, don’t try to play the hero and spare them from death – just don’t stop. Run their stupid jay-walking ass over. Really, it’ll save you a lot of aggravation in the long run.


Fun Fact Arms open, chest out. This is the universal sign for “let’s go, mother@#$%!”

I was trying to trace this gestures origins and I think I have a lead:

Somehow, it seems a lot less threatening when Jesus makes the pose. I can’t tell if it’s because Jesus is equated with peace and love, or if he just didn’t pump his chest enough while he was doing it.