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February 13, 2005
Who Knew it'd be So Violent?
I looked out the window and down at the sidewalk expecting to see a fight. I hurried over to the window so I could get a clear view of the fight. I'd been at a hockey game earlier in the night - Towson vs. Maryland - and saw some good fighting there. I guess I was in the mood.
Hockey isn't all that violent. That's what I thought after watching some of Emma's games. There was nothing remotely violent in the games, which was not what I expected. I'd always been lead to believe hockey was a violent sport full of constant body checking and bare-nuckle fighting.
Then I saw a college game. The crowd seemed to beg the players for a fight. They cheered on every check to the boards. Every time a player hit the ice claps and cheers came from the stands. Then came a fight. Not a bad one, only a few punches, a split lip, but more of a fight than you can get away with in any other sport. And it didn't seem to be a big deal. Sure, he was kicked out of the game, but their was no outrage. "You shoulda hit 'im harder." The old man right ahead of me called out as the player left the ice.
So, hockey is violent. Just as I thought.
After the hockey game Emma and I met up with a friend to play some pool. We played for a little while before we all decided headed out to Abe Lincoln's birthday party at Kildaires. Another friend was doing something there and an old, leathery looking woman prompted us to leave with her incessant asking if we were done playing.
"She looks like an old hooker."
"No, she doesn't."
"Yes, she does; she's all old and used up looking."
"That's just that tanning bed leathery skin. I bet she's not even that old."
"She's probably only 32."
"You guys are awful Maybe she has a skin condition."
We left and headed down to the bar none of us had ever been to before, none of us knew what to expect.
"What's this gonna be?"
"I don't know. All I know is Mike D is doing something there."
"You don't know what?"
"No. His band could be playing or it could be something just for Abe Lincoln's birthday. I have no idea."
We made it to the bar and stepped inside. It immediately became apparent the bar had two sections and that we had stepped into the section in which we didn't want to be. It was a small dark bar full of bikers dressed in leather. Without stopping at the bar we walked to the back, hoping to find some way to the part we wanted.
"This is the bar, right?"
"I think so. He said Kildaires."
"I went back there and didn't see anything." There was a hallway in the very back of the bar. It lead to the bathroom and one unlikely looking staircase. "There was a staircase. I think that guy's going up it. If he doesn't come back, we'll go that way too. OK?"
He didn't come back, so we followed up the stairs.
The room on the other side of the door looked like someone's living room. Someone's living room except that it was packed with people, several of them being bikers with the ubiquitous black leather vest.
"This doesn't look like it either."
"I think there's another room out here."
We had to leave the living room and cross through the foyer into another room. The foyer was definitely the wrong place. It was full of bikers. Big bikers. Small bikers. Hell's Angels. Holy shit! Those were Hell's Angels. What the hell are we doing here?
But the other room was safe. It was full of people in their 20s and 30s. None of them were wearing leather. I recognized some. "Ok. This is it."
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah. Mike is setting up in the corner. His band is going to play."
Having finally arrived at the right place I went up to the bar to buy a round of beers. The sign behind the bar said there was a $5 cover charge. We hadn't paid it. I was a little nervous about sneaking into the place. I wasn't sure if the Hell's Angel with the stick was the bouncer or if the 350 pound biker with the big beard was. Or maybe it was one of their friends. Play it cool. They'll never know.
The bartender came over dressed in a low cut leather halter top. I ordered a round of Natty Bohs. It came to $7.50. 7.50 for three Bohs? That's crazy. Isn't it illegal to charge mare than 1.75? I handed her a bill to cover it. She didn't give back any change. Do I still tip? -- I guess so.
I brought the beers back to the group and the band started warming up. A few Hell's Angels walked into the room. One of them was walking with a cane because he had a broken foot. His cane was actually more like a stick. A big fat stick. Like a baseball bat. He wore a black leather vest with "Hell's Angels MC Maryland" written on the back around a flamin skull. Another Hell's Angel came in with him and walked over to the other side of the crowd. Finally a pledge walked in and took his place next to the crippled Angel.
I had a feeling he wa a pledge, anyway. He didn't have "Hell's Angels" or the flaming skull on his back, but he had everything else, "MC Maryland." And even that awed me. "Look. The fucking Hell's Angels are here."
The band started playing and a pit started immediately. It was pretty wild, everyone was fueled with beer and still had energy since it was the first song.
Less than a minute into the song the Angel with the stick stumbled back. He grabbed his stick in two hands - one on each end of the stick - and jabbed at the closest slam dancer's head. Holy crap! He's hitting that guy in the head. Doesn't he know this is what people do at grind metal shows?
The band stopped and urged an end to the fight. It actually hadn't really even developed into a fight yet. But it was on its way. "Come on man. This is what people do here. This is normal."
The bouncer turned out to be the big fat biker. The one with the big black beard. The 350 pounder. He urged the Angels out into the foyer. They would go no further.
The band hadn't started and I heard noises from the crowd.
"What an asshole."
"God. Can you believe it?"
"Let me go. That fucker."
Then the guy charged out of the room. The guy that just got hit in the head by a member of a biker gang. With a stick. Charged out to get them.
What the hell is he thinking? There is never just one Hell's Angel. They're going to kick his ass.
He made it to the foyer and I saw a scuffle erupt. I couldn't see much, but I got the impression it was headed outside. I looked out the window expecting to see a fight and saw nothing. I went back to my friends and one said, "Did you see them kicking that guy around? They just took him outside."
I went back to the window and saw the guy. He was lying limp on his side on the sidewalk.
holy shit.
He was on his right side. His right arm straight up, his hand dangling off the curb. Blood coming from his face. I hoped it was only his nose. I thought that was it. The fight was over. Until I saw the Angel with the stick walk up and kick him in the face.
I've never seen a body move like that. His face and head moved, then snapped back, but his lower half didn't move at all. It stayed on the sidewalk as the man's torso fell off the curb into the street. It was like the crippled Angel was kicking jello. It made no effort to resist.
The Angel repositioned himself. He must have been a little awkward with the broken foot. He leaned on his stick, then with his good foot kicked the man so hard he lifted him off the ground. Not very far off the ground because he fit underneath the minivan parked at the curb, but enough to send him so far under you could only see him from the calves down.
A few minutes later the man climbed out from underneath the van. Blood poured from his face. He could barely stand. He leaned up against the van with the help of his friend. Was he that drunk? I hope so. I hope he was that drunk. He had to be. Who esle would fight a bunch of Hell's Angels alone? Who would fight a guy with a fucking stick alone? He's drunk. He's barely hurt. No, he's hurt, but mostly drunk. I hope.
The band started up again and played a great set. I left pretty soon afterward.
The only action I saw after the show was a woman in her 40s, with one tooth, asking me if I wanted a 14 inch drill. But the next day Mike called me up, thanked me for coming out, and asked me if I saw the fights.
"The fights?"
"Yeah, there were two fights."
"I think so. Unless there was another one after I left."
"Yeah. You know that big-assed bouncer? The one with the beard? My brother kicked the shit out of him."
"What?"
"Yeah. The fat dude started some shit so he threw him to the ground and kicked him in a the face a bunch of times."
"No way. That guy was huge."
"Yeah. We pretty much packed up and ran out of there after that."
Posted by calculatoronfire at February 13, 2005 05:46 PM
Comments
Crazy.
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