Gimme Three Steps

I wish I knew how to fight. I mean actually knew.

Not, I wish I had taken a few weeks of Tae Kwon Do as a kid, which I did. Not, I wish I had watched most of the fighting movies made in recent memory, which I have. Not, I wish I knew the first thing about MMA or boxing or any of the combat they show now on TV for sport, which I kind of do... no, see, even then, I'm kind of at a loss. I don't volunteer that I really have no basis of knowledge for this crap, but I don't. I've seen maybe 4 complete boxing matches my entire life. It hasn't stopped me from having conversations about boxing, but it still remains that I, like most people, don't know shit about boxing. If you don't believe me, ask this guy, if you can understand anything that he says:

Most people don't know s*** about boxing

I don't exactly know about fighting in general. I've never been in a real, actual, all out fight. I've been pretty good at actually avoiding it. The reason? Fighting is not what I do, and therefore not where I want any situations to devolve to. I have yet to be in a situation where it was actually worth it. And I'm not trying to say that there are not times that you may actually have to fight in, because there are things in this world worth fighting for. And then there are things that people fight over that are...well, that are pretty goddamn stupid things to fight over.

I once watched a friend of mine and a stranger get into a fist fight over who was first in line to get onto a rooftop bar. As in, we were already in the bar, we had drinks in our hands, and we were waiting to get up to a different part of the bar, and this friend and the dude behind him had to go outside to settle their differences because of who was supposed to be allowed to go upstairs first. I'm serious, they had to finish their drinks in order to fight about who would get to do more drinking first. So they go over to this empty parking lot, and I go with them mostly because I had already drank enough and was broke anyways at the time. And they hit eachother a bunch of times, and then my friend gets the guy pinned and starts pummeling him upside the head, so I stop the fight like an MMA ref, meaning I basically tackle my friend to stop him from giving the other guy brain damage. And then we all walked back across the street and all drank together. It was the dumbest use of 10 minutes I've ever seen outside of a bar. Especially since we had to wait in the same damn line for another 15 minutes anyway. What was the point of all of that?

I should pause to acknowledge something took: most of the fighting I am talking about just happens to involve alcohol. Being drunk just seems to exacerbate what are already bad decisions. I'll bet there are fights that happen that are between two sober individuals, but for our purpose here, I'm going to largely ignore those basically because of how convenient it is for me here.

But yeah, there are things in the world worth fighting for. And there are many other things that do not require it. And unfortunately, many things that do not require being fought over are fought over just the same. People fight about money, about race and religion, people fight over politics. And I don't mean they argue or debate, I mean they break out into fisticuffs over this shit. People move furniture and get shirtless and hurt one another over the weirdest shit, or shit that they can't control, or shit that is personal preference and that a fight would never change for either person.

Or how about reputation? People will fight other people over reputation to this day. I feel like that made sense in the 70's, when you had people hanging out at burger shacks with popped collars and greasy hair and without Instagram. Or maybe it didn't make sense then either, but I'm guessing there was less to do and people were pissed off enough about it to go fight somebody. But I can't imagine fighting anyone today for the purpose of my own rep. It's some cliche, that there's a bar fight over a drink that gets spilled on someone, and words get exchanged and a fight breaks out. I have had drink spilt on me at a bar. Do you know what happened? The bartender saw me spill it on myself and wouldn't give me a free one.

People fight over love too. That's another thing that would probably not make as much sense in the real world as it does in Hollywood. Two women fighting over a man, two men over a women, two men over a man, ect. Does it make sense, the idea that the winner of the fight is the best person for the relationship? Is that really sound logic? My fiancé, Tara, has never once required that I fight someone for her love, and I appreciate that. I am glad that she's not the type that wants me to go out and knock someone in the face just to show that I can. And part of it is that it's not who I am but part of it is also that it's not who she is. So I'm okay with both parts of that. Again, if I had to mix it up with some shady character, I would give it my best shot. But I am more than willing to admit that I would be out of my element.

Some years ago, I was in Alabama. Don't worry about why so much, I was in Alabama though. I know it's not the sunshine state, but that's what we kept calling it during this visit, because we thought it was funny. Anyway, we go out to a wonderful establishment called the Skybar. And most of the night was a great time. They had a front area that was your typical relaxed, open bar area, and then in the back was an enormous dance floor, with three other bar sections, very opened up atmosphere. And the group I was with, we got there early, and had free reign of the dance portion for most of the night, which I believe was a Wednesday. And slowly but surely, more and more people come in, and we get drinks and keep dancing, and more and more people come in, and we get super lit during this time. And one thing about me, I dance more when I get drunk. I have a good time and get even more goofy than I already am naturally. I also get ideas, usually that are not particularly good, and pursue those ideas.

On this particular night, I started dancing with this cute brunette with this blue dress. That's not the bad idea, mind you. She was a nice enough girl, she seemed to not mind how drunk and sweaty I had to have been by this time of the night. We were enjoying ourselves, nothing shady or anything to worry about. And then, for no reason at all, some random dude in a sweatshirt stumbles through the crowd, grabs ahold of the girl I'm dancing with, and falls down. She falls with him, right over top of him, and some others on the other side also go tumbling. It was really weird and embarrassing, but it's also possible I missed something else that was going on. Whatever.

I help my dance partner to her feet, whose name I feel like was something rather generic, like Kelly. Let's call her Kelly. Kelly is very upset about this, but she does her best not to show it as we walk over to the side where some small table is, and she tries to straighten up her dress and her hair, and just shaking her head, fuming. So of course, I ask if she's okay, and she's trying to keep from going on some rant about this guy that just caused a dance floor disturbance. So I make a suggestion. Here is the plan that I laid out:

Kelly and I will dance over towards where this same sweatshirt guy is standing, with his two friends. We will wait until he is not looking our direction, and she will give him a really good punch to the armpit, and then we will just keep dancing like nothing happened. My thinking was that this guy was so absolutely smashed, it wouldn't make sense to him, and we'd have a big laugh about it. Easy plan. Foolproof. Right?

Well, Kelly and I dance over, aloof. And the dude looks away, and she gives him a really good shot to the side of the arm instead of the armpit. Which I get, because the armpit was not going to be easy to go for. But she punches his arm, and he doesn't even seem to notice. So what does she do? Kelly punches him again. Like three times in a row. Well, it got his attention. Somehow, he managed to still not turn around while she was in the process of punching, he just missed it, but made the announcement that someone was hitting him and what the hell was that about and some other stuff, not particularly clear. And of course, he zeroes in on me.

So I tell him the truth: I didn't hit him, I don't know why he would think that I would have a reason to hit him. And then I lie right after that and say it must have been some waiter that had just walked past. And I point to a couple of girls in overalls nearby, and he looks for some reason. And the moment that he looks, Kelly hits him AGAIN. Now he turns his head back and his mood is instantly very different. He locks eyes with me and says, suddenly very coherent, "Alright, now I know that was you." I got a slight chill down my spine, but I think I actually kept a straight enough face. "Wasn't me that time either." And I'm somewhat shielding Kelly while we're having this interaction. So for whatever reason, he gets pulled to one side by his friends, and Kelly tugs me back the other way, and I'm still staring whatever-his-name down, trying to stay bold. But then I quickly turn to her and say, as smoothly as I can, "You're gonna get me killed in here!"

So she tried to keep it calm and light, and we laugh about it, but I'm actually a bit concerned because of how soon the guy flipped to a new demeanor. I didn't like that part of it at all. I was way more comfortable with him being a drunken buffoon. Kelly and I talked more as I glanced over, and realized that sweatshirt guy and his two friends were posted up at another table, sitting very still, and all are watching me. Like, watching me very carefully. Now I really don't like this. So Kelly says she has to go for a cigarette, and I say cool, I'm going to grab a drink. And as I leave the dance floor, I happen to notice out the side of my eye, that the three at the other table are also getting up and walking over to the bar, at a parallel position to me.

While I'm considering my options, I'm also looking around for the rest of the group that I came in with. And I don't see any of them anywhere, which is of further concern. I am alone, I am intoxicated (not severely but enough that it's a factor that I am aware of), I am in unfamiliar territory, my phone is about to die, and I might be about to die. Or at least get my ass beaten. I mean, I hate to genralize, but it is the south. I know that rednecks are basically everywhere if you look hard enough, but there are definitely rednecks in the south too. Now I could try to reason with the guy, but the explanation further implicates that it was my plan to hit him and then treat him like a moron. I could try to buy them drinks if I had money. And then as I look over once more, starting to really understand how much trouble I might be in, the song comes on...

I was cuttin a rug down at a place called the jug
With a girl named Linda Lou
When in walked a man, with a gun in his hand
And he was looking for a-you know who

Classic song, Gimme Three Steps by Lynyrd Skynyrd comes on. A song about a guy that has to leave a bar abruptly after having screwed up for not understanding the situation he has walked into. And I kind of look up, noticing the song, and then I look over at sweatshirt dude, and I kind of point up, to where the song is coming from more or less, trying to say, "You want to give me a head start at least?" And I assume he understood what I meant, because he gave me a very slight but distinct nod. Still locking eyes with me. Still with his two henchmen looking dudes.

So yeah, I walked calmly to the entrance of the bar portion, and then did my best to slink through that section to the front door of the place, and I ran back to the hotel, a few blocks away. I did not fight, I did not try to reason, I didn't even clarify that I understood all that had occurred. Don't care, really. I could be considered a complete coward by whoever reads this. I'll take my chances leaving a dumb situation when I see it unfolding. I have no idea what happened to Kelly or the sweaty guy. Maybe they knew eachother. Maybe it was some set up, and they were going to rob me later together, I don't know how these things go down. My point is, even if I knew how to fight, what would I even have been fighting over? Getting into it with these guys, even if I had backup, would have accomplished literally nothing. And if I did win the fight, was Kelly even worth fighting someone for? She was cute, but she wasn't 'get punched in the face' cute. She wasn't 'get duct taped and abducted and have Deliverance-level shit happen to me' attractive. And I will assume the worst is going to happen if I've gotten that drunk. Don't make me out to be some warrior. I ran track and field, I'm fine with fleeing the scene on foot. Don't give me the beatings. Just give me, sorry, I'll say it right.

Oh won't you gimme three steps
Gimme three steps, mister
Gimme three steps towards the door
Gimme three steps
Gimme three steps, mister
And you'll never see-a me no more

For sure.