Randy Rides Again

Def. Pack Mentality – The coming together of extremely weak entities, who have no personal sense of honor, in order to  channel their collective energies with  hopes of overcomoing a stronger being; members of the pack are normally entities who are unable to stand alone; such rings are often led by one moderately strong entity.   i.e. weak, sick, or injured dogs; gang memers, lasy union members.

SITUATION:  Thai men engaged in a running foot battle with another lone Thai man.

THE COMBANTANTS:  4 3/4 local national men (one was missing a left leg) all around the age of 23 with lithe builds of Muoi Thai fighters.

THE VICTIM:  Thai male, approximately 21 years of age, clad in newly torn clothing.

WEAPONS OF CHOICE:  Legless Man:  Two crutches; el Conquistador:  Foot stool exactly like those used by lion tamers which is about a foot in height, wooden seat platform, and four metalic legs.

THE LION TAMER:  El Conquistador Randy de Tucson.

TIME:  Sometime after 2am

LOCATION:  Sukhumvit, between Soi 10 and 8, outside eatery.

A friend of mine in Bkk is a local Thai woman who owns/operates a local travel agency.  I met her about two years ago, and we’ve become quite good friends.  She invited me to a late night dinner following the closure of her shop, and I agreed since the flakyness (new word…promote its use…) of Jimlim has proven to be unwaivering. 

The bars in the city close between 2 and 3am; then the city really comes alive!  Late night eateries open on sidewalks as the proper restaurants close.  The streets are filled with drunken whores, Johns, druggies, guitar players, wishful singers, and sober cats and dogs.  We met at the eatery of her good friend, which is located at the aforementioned location. 

We chatted as a strummer of guitars strummed a string nearby.  The food of choice was my favorite:  Tom Yam Gung…extra spicy (which both me and my arse are currently regretting).  I heard a commotion to my right, turned my head, and saw 4.75 Thai  men (one was missing a leg) engaging in company with a sixth man.  I actually shouldn’t say ‘engaging in combat’; four and a three-quarters men were monkey stomping some poor bloke.  I ignored the commmotion and returned to my yummy soup. 

My friend and I were seated at a very low table.  I was unfortunate enough not to have taken a gymnastics course over the span of my life and was forced on the spot to spread my legs at a very odd angle in order to move my belly to the table as the stools we were sitting on were only about a foot in height, and the table wasn’t much higher.  My drink of choice was a Singha beer, of which many I’d already consumed throughout the evening/night.  I was drunk enough to use poor judgement, but sober enough to still perform divided attention tasks. 

The noise of the combatants grew both louder and closer, creating the possibility of spilling my precious soup.  I again focused my attention on the combatants and saw that the 4.75 cowardly men were actually preying upon an obviously weaker man.  As Ryan once said, "Randy goes from 0 – 80 in less than a second."  My blood was instantly boiling when I saw the sight.  While a bit impaired, I remember standing as I yelled, "I HATE pack animals!"  I snatched up the lion taming stool I sat upon, removed two of the rubber stoppers on the tips so the jagged metal would not be inhibited by the rubber, and ran to the ruckass. 

Three or four steps from entering into the carnage of the monkey stomp, I issued a death-scream with hopes of employing Papa Bush’s tactic of ‘shock and awe’; it worked.  I jumped into the middle of the melee and laid waste to all around me with my lion taming stool.  Upon entering into the horde, I wacked one on the back of the head with the wooden seat portion; he immediately dropped unconscious.  It seemed as though Jackie Chan’s spirit poured forth from my being as I waylaid them with lunges, thrusts, parries, and blows about all parts of their bodies.  Scream the entire time, I later noted that quite a croud gathered around to watch the onslaught of the vermin pack animals.  I laid open the cheek…just below the eye (if I hadn’t been impaired, my lion taming tool would have found its intended mark), then gave him a wack above the ear and dropped him.  One fled; a fourth came at me and received a ragged piece of lion taming tool to his mid-section; then he fled as well.  All that remained was ‘three quarters man’. 

.75 had dropped one of his crutches and was preparing to give me his best ‘Babe Ruth’.  I flipped the stool around and prepared to engage; he hesitated and lost total momentum at that point.  Not wanting to disable the only good knee of the legless man, I again implemented Papa Bush’s ‘shock and awe’ theory; while it didn’t work for shit on the battle fields of Iraq, it served me nicely…thanks Papa Bush!  I screamed at the legless ringleader, "do it…do it…DO IT!!!!"  The legless anti-wonder dropped the crutch onto the pavement.  I grabbed both of his crutches and threw them into the busy street of Sukhumvit so I’d have a bit of entertainment watching him retrieve them as I finished my meal. 

 As I returned to my meal, people slapped me on the back and said, "Jean Claude…Bruce Lee (pussy)…Jackie Chan…"   A very entertaining night.  Thank god Ryan or Josh weren’t there…then I’d actually have a couple of marks on my body today!