I like to have a good time. I don't think this is unreasonable. However, there is a point, where having a good time reaches an unreasonable level and your actions affect others adversely. It is extremely important that people figure out where these levels are. If you don't, you're liable to find yourself in a much worse position than you would probably think possible. This is where my roommate, and friend, Stas found himself.
At some point this past spring, what was being in my life a pretty regular occurrence of staying up having a few drinks with friends, playing some pong, smoke a little pot, and in general just having a good time. At this time I feel ecstatic, refreshed and full of confidence. In short, I feel good. As I get downtown to meet up with my friends from work at the bar, I encounter my friends outside and already to leave. With more friends than space in a car, Stas volunteered for the trunk rather than to walk. No one really objected, though I would speak to the fact that facing a 10 minute walk is not that horrible an option either. At this point I also realize that with the exception of our lovely driver, I am the only one in the crew that is sober. As fate would have it, allows me to tell this story even months after it happened.
As I get in the ridiculousness is already at a pretty high level. My one friend, we'll call her E, is eating potato chips, but makes a demand.
"Gimme some fucking ketchup"!
Laughter ensues along with a plastic bottle of Heinz 57.
Now my common sense said that E would take the time to gently squeeze dabs of ketchup on to individual chips. Instead, E decides to use her gloved hand as a makeshift condiment cup. Upon further consideration, while I initially thought this strange, if you really don't give a fuck about your gloves, this is a very simple solution for getting lots of ketchup on any one chip. Also, if you have a trust level with your friend's like E had with everyone there, cleaning off the ketchup from your gloves is as easy as shoulder rub to your neighbor.
As we arrive to my friends apartment. My one friend, we'll call him Mike, has already taken his shirt off in open defiance of clothing being necessary for the night. Mike is by no means an elite athlete, or gym rat, but he is a regular guy who could give a shit about what other people think of what he looks like without a shirt. This is one of the many reasons I like Mike. Fun is about many things, but a sense of unadulterated freedom almost always comes with the best of times.
We unlock Stas from the trunk. And I'm not sure what being in a trunk of a car does to people, but it apparently did something to Stas, and he responded, well, rather poorly.
Now before I get to this section, which I will rip Stas a little bit, I think I should point out a few things. Stas, does have a good heart. He is in no way an angry, bitter or sour person. He wants to have fun, he wants to laugh and have a good time. This is why I like Stas, even though I know sometimes he can rub people the wrong way despite his honestly good intentions.
Stas enters, the room. A blunt is being passed around, which I partake in to relax a bit. The ketchup thing and immediate tossing of shirts has led me to think the night could produce some unexpected results. I should at least be calm for them.
Stas has an abundance of energy. He is frantically searching for his favorite music. He finds it, he dances to it. I am not. I am sitting, just watching the scenes unfold. E is busy being drunk and cute. Our driver is talking to Mike, and others mill about setting up a potential game of pong, the...
"Ow, what the fuck Stas?" My attention shifts back to Stas, who is positioned over our friend D, and is in the process of retracting his fist from her cleavage. E speaks up first, despite her ketchup hands presents a pretty rational argument.
"You cannot just hit a girl there dude"
"Why not?
"That hurt" D says. hand soothing her boobs, perhaps slightly embarrassed over the incident. Though perhaps more so in just pain. I couldn't tell.
I watch....
"Ok, one free slap"
D's head picks up, looks at me, Mike, the other male members of the room.
"Two slaps," suggests Mike, "or a hit to the nuts"
"No way, no way does that equate to a hit in the nuts."
"Then two slaps"
D, apparently satisfied steps up and slaps Stas hard. Twice, both times producing an echoing silence from everyone else.
Then the night continued for a minute or two when during a game of Pong, for some reason he has decided to throw a plastic Gatorade bottle at D at point blank range. He was losing control.
"The fuck?"
"Dude..."
"Oh my God Stas"
The disbelief was widespread. In just minutes prior, Stas had already made an act of aggression upon D. This was uncalled for. It was unnecessary and horrible. In the strictest sense this was really indefensible.
"Ok, I'm sorry. 3 slaps?"
"fuck no, i want a punch" says D
"no way does that warrant a punch"
"the welt on her head now speaks otherwise" Mike says.
"or a ball slap" someone suggests
"No way I'm getting hit in the balls"
"Then one punch", says D "With my ring on"
"alright alright, then we're cool right"
"i mean i guess"
The punch goes through, but i can tell the effect was less. It was a glancing blow. He seemed mostly unaffected and still had not fully gripped his level of asinine behavior. I was worried people would have to ask him to leave, and me, being his roommate would be asked how I could l live with someone who would have such abhorrent behavior. (refer to above)
Then, without warning a new arrival enters the apartment, a friend of the gang's, but not one at this point am very familiar with (though i am now.) This man comes in and immediately ambushes Stas who is sitting on the couch with some playful hits on the body and side of the head. Stas, loses his cool. He stands up and slaps the kid across the face hard and looks like he may just have it out with him. I am now at full attention. Fights suck, and it looks like one might be brewing. Stas, while dealing out damage, perhaps unknowingly, has now taken some. He has a look of aggression in his eye. Again the silence is surrounding us. Stas breaks it.
"My bad, one slap?"
The kid looks down, he does not want it. I could see he didn't really want to. I just watch.
"Dude.."
"No it's cool man, just slap I deserve it."
"Dude..."
The kid looks in my direction
"What if he does it?"
His finger is pointing at me, and my adrenaline sky rockets.
At this point, I am stoned, but I've been on alert. One event after another with my roommate tonight, the halfway nudity of Mike, the ketchup hands...everything has been spiraling, and it seemed that i had to bring back normalcy. At least that is how I looked at it. I rose, slow thinking he may just say no to the slap itself. A 6'3, 235 pound former athlete i suspect can at times intimidate. I was hoping that would be the case. Instead, Stas prepared himself. He took off his shoes, stealing the line from 'The Hurt Locker" saying "If I die, I want to be comfortable."
"Dude, after this...we stop, OK?"
"Yeah"
"No more slaps, no more stupid shit. This ends after this OK?"
"OK"
I look around the room. Everyone is staring. I have never done anything like this before. I have no idea what will happen. The only physical incidents I've ever had were on football fields or in grade school fights. This would be very different for me. I get in my head, that at the very least, I do not want to let people think I held back. But the results, I was unsure of.
As I wound up, I had two scenarios locked in. In one, the shock of being hit so hard in the face would anger Stas to the point I would have to expect a counter punch, and to be ready for it. That he may charge me. These things did not happen, because the other scenario I had in my head, did.
I closed my eyes, or blinked at impact. I could feel the energy begin to erupt around me. As I rose my head back up, lifting my left arm hoping to protect myself, I caught his eyes roll back into his head, and his knees went week.
"Shit, I knew he was going down" I apparently say (I don't actually remember this, my adrenaline was pumping to the point where everything just became blurry.)
The crowd, my friends, Stas' friends, have gone nuts, they can't believe it. Laughter, screams of astonishment flood my ears, but I can only see my fallen friend, and his lack of consciousness disturbs me. What it if something was wrong? A concussion, brain damage, spine injuries? What the fuck just happened. And though order seems restored and there is no silence, I am more worried now than I was at any earlier time.
I lean down and grab Stas by the shirt, yelling "hey, you OK? you alright?" In real time it may have only been 5 seconds that he was out, but to me it felt like forever. He needed to be OK.
Seconds later he was. He looked curious, unsure about what just happened, how he got to the floor. His response was....well not what I expected.
"Wait, you knocked me out?"
"Um, I think so"
"Dude, you were so out" someone calls
"That is awesome!"
And despite everything, everyone is now satisfied. An event has occurred, one that everyone there could retell, and no one had any problems. It worked. There was nothing left to do but have fun. Which only I really could not. To think I had in me the power to seriously incapacitate someone with a slap is both exhilarating and terrifying at the same time. It meant that I could walk without much fear, but it also meant I had to be careful, to know my own strength and that if I ever became like Stas that night, the results could be disastrous.
A side note. Unless I get permission from people in the story, I'm going to try and not use real names. Not looking to ruffle feathers with these posts, and yes Stas agreed to let me use his name in this one. If you want mentioned I'll ether ask, or come and tell me you don't mind, and I can do a rewrite using names.
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