The Battle Of Nothing

I remember griping the fence, as clumps of traffic raced below. I was young then; and full of cheap malt liquor. The world was vexing; distorted by a flexing film, stretched in to a hyper-lucidity.
Blindingly drunk; I felt the energy of the traffic below, sending pulsing vibrations through the concrete bridge. Euphoric; I mused the thought of it being something more. Something bigger, and universal. A kind of galactic consonance; ever-reaching and harmonious.

I began to hear something like a roaring crowd, the volume and intensity increasing exponentially. I looked to my left, and off in the distance was a crowd of 30 or so, people. I recognized some of the people, but I had no affiliation with them. I was elevated, and 100 yards away; they seemed like angry bees to me. Moving in violent semi circles around several key people, overall the gang kept spherical; interesting I thought. The rhetoric was loud and intense; I couldn't make it out. Just as I was getting bored with them, I noticed something. About 15 yards from them, another posse was forming. None of these people looked familiar to me; "This is gonna get interesting." I thought.

Standing in the round of a ramp; the kind of walkway, that seems like a compressed spiral staircase; a circular ramp.
It was a great viewing platform to watch such an event. The second group poured out; car after car, they seemed to match the first group in size. The yelling was inaudible, with the occasional "Fuck You!" and so have you; being decipherable. I clung to the fence, anxious and electrified; "Now this is Roman entertainment!" I thought. Giggling and crumpling over, till I hung from the fence like monkey bars.

I noticed something. Someone had upped the ante; baseball bats, and assorted weaponry had began to appear. A few chains, or blackjacks; it was hard to tell. The groups surged closer, and closer till; the gap was about 20 feet. The yelling died down; and a man from each group met in the middle. I'll never know what was said; but for 5 minutes it seemed like this might actually end anticlimactically. The gesturing was typical; they spoke with their hands about expansive problems, coupled with a deep need for understanding. they continued to gesture fiercely; until the man from the second group gestured that it wasn't his problem, or I don't give a shit. The kind of gesture when both of your arms are spread, hands open, palm up. The one where your head is tilted to the side, and even though I couldn't see it; I'm sure he was smiling.

The right cross from the first man was vicious, and well placed. It didn't knock over the second guy, but sent him back a few steps. "He must have a good chin" I thought. I've seen that shot, knock people out before. He hesitated, Strategic Death. I'd imagine the fear was rising in him; he wasn't hurt. I'm sure the shot was painful, but he didn't feel it. Like a scared dog running out of room; quite dangerous, and punch drunk on adrenalin. Every Veteran to these types of affairs knows; Just cause you're bleeding, don't mean you're hurt. I'm sure it blurred up his vision for a bit but, he had time to recover.

Interestingly, they didn't seem to have a 'dog pack' personality. They didn't encircle the two fighting, nor did they exploit the hesitation. The two groups remained separated, and for the most part; clumped. Not typical in my experience; being savvy to such social events. It must be an honor fight; I figured. Maybe it was such a swelling of ego v.s ego, it grew in to a cold war of sorts. Perhaps it grew, and grew till it encapsulated several hierarchies of social connections; friends of friends type of thing. Maybe they beat the metaphorical war drum; twisting the story to include everyone. Perhaps it was Town pride; pretty common around here in the shadows of the City. It was too large a gathering to be a girlfriend thing. In reality; if you have even, one friend who will fight for your love, consider yourself lucky.

The hesitant one leap forward; and let go, one slow motion hay maker. I've seen this kind of thing before; it's like adrenalin overload. You're muscles become ridged, giving you incredible power; It's great if you're wrestling, or hanging on for dear life; useless in a fist fight. He looked like some cardboard cut-out that someone threw; it almost reminded me of some, 8-bit Mario's World jumps.
It was easily deflects, and he was awarded a loose upper cut for his efforts. Failure measured in chips of tooth. A quick left jab followed; unobstructed, I'll bet he started to reconsider his position on the topic at hand. Akin to a baby plopping on to the floor, he fell on his ass; both hands holding what I guess to be a bloody nose. Needless to say; this was a poor choice.

As he sat there, bleeding; the other man swung back his leg, and attempted to punt his spleen in to his group of associates. Then; someone broke 'The Rules'. One of his friends left the crowd, and approached the two. In response two men from the other group entered; and so on, and so on. Collapses in to utter chaos; The Romans fell; the dogs rose. A thick blur of flesh, wood, and iron; a battle from the dark ages. Arms block the bats;only to expose the ribs to golf clubs, horrific duality. The chains were fluid; they reached around defenses and kissed you sweetly.

The screams, grunts, and moans were dulled by distance, and roaring traffic. It dissipated rather quickly after chaos took over. Wills were clashed; and now bruised, the wounded carried the wounded off the sacred bloodied sod. Surprisingly nobody called the Cops; this issue resolved it's self. Both groups slaked away; I have no idea what fate fell upon the original two, nor do I know which side won. Injuries were high, and morale was low; nobody was rejoicing, nobody was victorious. The only proof it ever happened, was washed out of the grass later that night; automatic sprinklers. My spectator ship was over; never noticed. It had been a truly third person event.

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