My First Physical Confrontation: A Night with the NIU Kobra Kai’s
I’m not a fighter. I never have been. I wouldn’t say it’s because I’m a coward or anything. I think it’s more that I’m just scared to death of getting my ass kicked…
OK, so maybe I’m a coward. I don’t mind. My nose is already weird looking enough, the last thing I need is for it to get broken during a fight. It’s because of my cowardly ways that until the age of 22, I never found myself in a physical confrontation. That all changed one rainy night in the land that God forgot about.
I was in DeKalb, Il visiting a friend/student at Northern Illinois University. Me and my cousin Scott, whose identity I will hide by calling him Not-Scott, had come down on a Saturday evening to enjoy the celebrated DeKalb night life.
The night started out great. We were having some drinks and sharing some laughs at our friend Not-Jamie’s (whose identity I am hiding) apartment. After a while, she suggested that we go to a party that was taking place in her building. We went there for an hour or two, and after being all partied out, Not-Scott and I decided to go back to Not-Jamie’s apartment.This is where things got interesting.
For reasons unknown, at this point of the evening I was carrying a Magic 8 Ball around with me…
I’m not sure how I got it: either I had it the whole night and originally took it from Not-Jamie’s apartment, or I took it from the party thinking it was a goodie bag gift. Regardless, I found myself intoxicated at 1 am in DeKalb with a Magic 8 Ball in my hand.
As Not-Scott and I were walking towards the apartment door, we passed by a group of three guys and two girls that were outside smoking. One of the guys was wearing a Kobra Kai T-shirt…
The Kobra Kai Dojo was the villainous karate school in the Karate Kid movies “that taught an unethical, vicious form of martial arts” -wikipedia. Since me and Not-Scott watched The Karate Kid together numerous times when we were growing up, we were impressed with the T-shirt choice. So Not-Scott said, “Kobra Kai’s! Hell yeah!”
Typically when you offer someone a compliment or comment on how much you admire their vintage 80’s T-shirt, the response is something along the lines of, “Hell yeah!” “Thanks man!” or “You know it!” Not in DeKalb. Instead, the guy said, “What the fuck did you say?”
A little taken aback by the hostility, Not-Scott innocently said, “I like you Kobra Kai T-shirt.”
It’s possible that the first time he was complimented, the Kobra Kai thought Not-Scott was being sarcastic. But this time the innocence in Not-Scott’s voice nearly brought me to tears. There was no doubt that his T-shirt was a big hit to this stranger who was complimenting it, and his initial response to the homage must have been a mistake. But to the surprise of both of us, he responded with a “Fuck you!”
We both stood and stared in awe for a couple seconds. We were so used to compliments leading to friendships, but at Northern Illinois University compliments were fighting words. I would hate to see the riots that take place at their etiquette classes.
“Why are you mad?” is what I asked, to which he replied, “Fuck off.” His friends started getting into it too, cussing at us and acting macho. It felt like we were in West Side Story, only with tougher language.
“You guys are weird,” I said, and Not-Scott and I walked away towards the apartment. As we were walking they continued to yell at us, and because we thought this was kind of fun we yelled back at them as well. I wish to this day I could remember what I yelled at them. I’m so bad at smack talk that I’m sure it was something like, “I bet you’ve never even seen the third Karate Kid!”
As we got to the door of Not-Jamie’s apartment, I conjured up a plan (keep in mind, it was late and I was intoxicated). My drunken brain had figured out the perfect way to resolve this conflict. With Not-Scott already inside, I took my Magic 8 Ball… well, I guess it wasn’t mine… but I lifted it up, cocked my arm, and threw it in their direction. Then I walked into the apartment and closed the door behind me. Problem solved.
Actually, chucking 5 pound toys (brought to you by Mattel) at total strangers resolves nothing. In fact, it kind of makes things much worse. Within a minute they were pounding at the front door. Feeling that the conflict was over, I had no problem opening it and pleasantly greeting them. But in front of me stood three Kobra Kai’s, all in their fighting positions.
“Why did you throw a beer at my girl?!?” the leader demanded.
This confused me. I didn’t remember throwing a beer at anyone. In fact, I don’t think I would have just carelessly throw a beer away, especially at the age of 22.
“I didn’t throw a beer at your girl.”
“One of you guys threw a beer at my girl!”
I thought to myself, “Did Not-Scott throw a beer at his girl?” Then I remembered what had just happened a minute earlier.
“Ooooooh! I see! I didn’t throw a beer at your girl, I threw a Magic 8 Ball at your girl!” Mystery solved!
But this was a terrible answer. All three Kobra Kai’s looked furious. But because I was intoxicated, I didn’t know what the problem was. That’s when it happened. Out of the blue, the least vocal of the three, who was standing in the middle of the trio, stepped up and slapped me in the face.
I’ve never been slapped in the face. I didn’t think guys got slapped in the face by other guys. I stood there in shock for a moment, and then did the only thing I could think of: I leaned forward, extended my arm, and slapped him back. It was like we were declaring a duel, only our slap fight was the actual duel.
After I slapped him, I immediately burst out into laughter. Even drunk I realized how ridiculous this whole scenario was. It was then that Not-Scott, acting as my Mr. Miyagi, moved me out of the way, shut the front door, and locked it.
I was on the floor laughing at the fact that my first fight was a slap-off. But the guys outside wanted my blood, so they kept pounding on the door. Not-Scott became as protective as a mother bear, and he quickly picked up a butcher knife and got into a crouch position in case these karate experts got inside. “They’re not coming in here!” he declared.
At this moment I laughed almost to the point of unconsciousness.
The guys kept pounding and pounding, and eventually went to the windows and started pounding on those as well, nearly breaking them. It was like the end of the Thriller video.
The pounding went on for over an hour, but after ten minutes of it we got bored of the spectacle and started watching television. When they would pound louder, we would just turn up the volume to drain them out. They pounded for so long that eventually we fell asleep to it.
The next morning Not-Jamie’s roommate told us how she got home late and the guys were still pounding on the door. They were people she knew, so they apparently ended their witch hunt when she got there and went on their way.
Around 9 am we said our good-byes, thank yous, and sorrys to the girls and left the apartment. Right before we got to our car, I noticed on that the ground was my Magic 8 Ball, completely covered in mud. I laughed to myself and thought about taking it home with me. However, since it was so filthy I decided not to pick it up…
…but I like to think that if I did, my fortune would have said, “Slap Fight.”