Being The Real, True Story Of Heroics In Over My Head

Remember Klinger? Remember how he was trying to get out of the Army on a Section 8? They don’t call it a Section 8 anymore. I’m not sure what they call it now, but it’s particuarly relevant to this story.

In college, I spent a bit(which can be read as waaaaaay too much) of time in the C&O wing, in the games club in particular. I was even vice president for a while–long story. This isn’t the place for it yet. Also resident in the Wing was the martial arts club. The GPC and the martial arts club had quite a bit of overlap, as most of the gamers in the club were martial artists to some degree. My best friend, Brian, is one of these guys. I, despite a few weeks of kung fu training by my next door neighbor and a month of training at my son’s school, am not a martial artist. This point must be made perfectly clear. I am NOT a martial artist, nor do I play one on TV.

One night, it was decided that we should all go to South Street in Philadelphia. GPC and the martial arts club. For those who don’t know, South Street is the equivalent of the boardwalk at the beach, only slightly better paved.

Now, there was a girl. I know what you’re thinking–and THIS time, you’re wrong. I wasn’t madly head over heels in love with her. She was nice, I liked her, that was it. She’d managed somehow to get a boyfriend who wasn’t very pleasant or nice. He was quite the jerk. More details coming on this guy. So, several martial artists, their girlfriends who were in the GPC, and this girl and Mr. Wonderful.

There are several cars involved. My two friends are in the back of mine, and Mr. Wonderful is next to me, his girlfriend is in another car. He’s not happy about this. Not so much about being in the Excelsior with us, but being seperated.

We get down to South Street. Now, I’m a fairly big guy. Over six foot, broad in the shoulder area, but remember, the closest thing to martial arts training I had then is reading every GI Joe comic written. So we’re traveling en masse down South Street, checking out different shops. The girl asks me if she can stay by me since she’s dumping the guy and she’s afraid. Do I point out that there are others in our party more capable of defending her honor and person than myself?

You’ve MET me, right?

So, she stays close to me. The boyfriend, who is ALSO six-footish and broad of shoulder, is getting angrier and angrier. I take my new responsibility very seriously, never letting her out of my sight. Thank God we didn’t have to have a potty break. Mr. Wonderful is rapidly approaching critical mass. Still, I have my arm around her shoulder whilst thinking “Yeah, um, what? What am I DOING?” Mr. Wonderful is at this point ditching the whole group.

It’s decided that we should hit Denny’s. At that point Denny’s was the destination of choice when we were either hungry, bored, or in a town with gravity. So, the girl and I are in my car driving as the other cars are going, too. That’s when she springs it.

Mr. Wonderful had been in the Navy. They threw him out on whatever the current Naval equivalent of a Section 8 is. Serious anger issues. I’m nodding, thinking, “Sometimes this hero stuff is for the friggin’ BIRDS!” So, someone too nuts to be in the Navy has been stalking me and her all night, and she chose ME to hide behind, even though all the other guys in the group were martial artists. ME. I made her feel safe. I made me feel like I had brains of Jello.

I tried to kiss her that night. She said, since she was Jewish and I wasn’t, we couldn”t date. She then said it wouldn’t stop her from sleeping with me.

SECOND time my mind reeled that night.


~ by Sean on July 24, 2014.

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