Sunday, October 16, 2011

keep hopping

SB wheeling his hockey bag was too much for the night-time occupants of Wanchai to resist; all ages of men were executing mediocre kickboxing moves.  Following in SB's wake I passed a fellow who was hunched over, holding his toe.  He was yelling something at me that I couldn't hear but assuming that he had injured himself kicking the bag, I had little sympathy.

He grabbed me, I placed my palm on his forehead anticipating that I might have to fend, he punched me.  I walked to the end of the block where SB was waiting, unaware of what held me up.  Moments later the fellow and his girlfriend followed.  He wanted to apologize and clarify that SB had run over his foot and it hurt.  We shook hands.  SB still had no idea what was happening so I brought him over to apologize for running over the foot.

Only after we got into the taxi did I tell SB that I had been punched.  But not hard.  SB tried to figure out how his bag caused so much pain because the fellow was still hopping up and down when we left.  With a helmet, a pair of skates and various protection the bag wasn't light but should not have been so heavy either.  I had two possible scenarios:

  1. The fellow's foot had the misfortune of being in the path of the bag when it was kicked, and
  2. It may not have hurt badly but one should always play up the injury to save face when attempting reconciliation and justification for punching the wrong person (and a female to boot).
I felt sorry for the fellow because he didn't seem like a bad sort at all and while I got to go home to SB fretting over my non-existent bruise he had to go home with his pretty girlfriend, red faced and clutching his foot.

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