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Posts Tagged ‘fist fight’

To start reading from the beginning, go to May 11, 2008.

In Fort Smith, BC, dinner was relaxed and rather
jovial. Our dinner companion, a blond 30 something years old with clear
blue eyes FAA employee seemed to like our company. I don’t remember his
name but will call him Rick. Rick and Donny exchanged airplane stories
and I retold the moment when we were head to head with a truck on the
highway. We laughed through the dinner. Donny was normally aloof around
strangers, but even he seemed to be enjoying himself.

After dinner he brought us to his trailer and showed us our prospective
bedrooms. I was at one end of the trailer while he placed Donny at the
other end. My small room for the night had a bunk bed. I hoped I at
least had clean sheets. Our host bid us goodnight and said he was going
out again for awhile.

I began to undress but reconsidered. Ricky had been a gentleman, but my intuition told me it might be better to
remain mostly dressed. I climbed into the bottom bunk, laid there for
awhile then, again, reconsidered. I decided to sleep in the top bunk.

Suddenly I was being shoved from a deep sleep. “Wake up. Wake up!” Ricky
was at my bed rocking my hip to wake up. “What are you doing?” I asked trying
to pull my head into the moment. I could smell that Ricky had been
drinking and now standing at my bedside in his underwear. I was half
awake and appalled and unable to think of what to say. We both knew, me
in a sleep stupor and he in a liquor stupor, that if I made a fuss,
Donny would be there in a second. I said the only thing that came to
mind, “I’m a Christian.”  “So am I,” he said. “No, leave me alone,”
I told him. Fortunately, he turned and left and I went right back to
sleep. I was exhausted from all the close calls that day and needed to
disappear into a safe dreamland.

Ricky was already gone by the time I was dressed and met Donny in the living room. I told him Ricky
was a visitor last night and Donny’s response was a chuckle. He said he
was impressed with my calm handling of the situation, that I wasn’t
emotional about it. I wondered if he was really just relieved that he
didn’t have to confront Ricky. I supposed most men have gotten into a
scrap, fist fight, or two in their young lives but Donny didn’t seem to
be the kind of guy who had ever had to fight another boy. I couldn’t
imagine he or his brothers ever having gotten a black eye or bloody nose
from another boy. My brother had a few fist fights as a boy and young
man and because he had, I assumed most boys have had a scrap or two.

If it had been just me the night before, I would have slept on a chair in a
public place; sleeping at a stranger’s house would have been out of the
question but I don’t suppose Donny knew how vulnerable my situation
could have been if he hadn’t been within earshot of my room. I may have
been impressively calm, but it was just another event in a very long day
of harrowing events.

(to be continued) copyright Tamara Ann Burgh, all rights reserved

Flying the Al-Can Highway

Flying the Al-Can Highway

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