It’s a couple of years ago when it happened, and I say to myself that “Hasse-you don’t have anything to be ashamed of”. Most people would have walked away, but if they could, they would have done the same as I did- at least this is what I keep telling myself. Reflecting on what happened, usually puts a smile on my face, even if when in the middle of it, I didn’t smile, then I just tried to make the most of it, and go with the flow, or not get too mad at myself.
I arrived to Columbia, South Carolina on a Thursday afternoon, with a busy Friday schedule ahead of me, One of the dealers I supported out of Charlotte, North Carolina was to meet me Friday morning and we had meetings with the State of SC purchasing department regarding the State Contract, and we had mixed in a couple of other meetings with potential clients throughout the last day of the week. Normally when staying in Columbia I would stay at a Courtyard Marriott downtown, but as it was a big convention in town, I found a room at a Courtyard some 20 minutes away from downtown. After checking in and doing my daily report updates, I decided to go straight to town for a nice dinner at my favorite Columbia SC restaurants “Blue Marlin”, located at an old railway station right in the middle of downtown in the South Carolina capital.
The parking spaces close to the restaurant was occupied, so I circled around the area a couple of times before finding a spot in a side street, a couple of blocks down from the restaurant. I parked the car and walked through the alleyway and entered the restaurant. I still think that if I had found another spot, at any other place than where I found the one I parked in, I wouldn’t had ended up in the situation I did later, but that is how life is, isn’t it? Life is full of coincidences and full of incidents happening based on luck, based on decisions made in a blink of a second, and things happen that will change a whole life, or in this instance–change a couple of days of a life. Drastically—–
I had a cocktail before dinner, accompanied by a couple of glasses of red wine with my dinner, a steak dinner, by the way. The NY Strip Steak on the menu was way too tempting, even if this was supposed to be a class act seafood restaurant. “What do they know about seafood in Columbia SC anyhow?” were my thoughts, before enjoying a very good, steak. The New York Strip is usually good, I find myself telling myself more and more often. My mind started to wander, just like it usually does when I’m alone in a restaurant, people watching and observing; “Why do they call it New York Strip anyhow? I doubt they raised any cows in New York City. Is it possibly called this because the cut could be the New York way? Does eating the big juicy steak give you an attitude like a New Yorker, or what could it be? Might be Google-worthy if I remember later,” I think to myself.
After dinner, I stayed and watched a college basketball game, I believe it was the Gamecocks playing some other team, as I remember the crowd cheering and getting really in to the game towards the end of the game. Don’t remember if the Gamecocks won or not, but I do remember thinking I had a long day ahead of me in the morning, so it was time to head back to the hotel. I got the check, paid my usual 20 percent tip, as the waitress was pretty cute and did give a pretty good service, every time I had been there, I had received pretty good service- I thought to myself as packed my stuff to exit the restaurant.
I signed the check, said goodbye to the folks at the table over, they had been watching the game, as I had and had made some comments about some of the plays, with me pretending that I knew anything about basketball, which I of course don’t. But I do follow the game somewhat, impossible not to living in Raleigh with all the college basketball attention in that area.
As I walked through out, I decided to take the shortcut through the alleyway, even if it was fairly dark, this was downtown and looked like a good idea. As I rounded the first corner, I saw a group of guys-actually what looked like three guys beating up on a scrubby looking older man. I didn’t think, I didn’t even consider anything but what I did, but I shouted to the guys – the guys that by the way was pretty close by where I was walking—I am in a Hugo Boss suit, shirt and shoes I might add; “Hey guys, stop that“was the words that came out of my mouth in a not so southern accent. Columbia South Carolina is by the way the capital of the Deep South, and these guys were not much like the fine gentlemen of the south we see from movies like “Gone with the Wind”. These guys were not much like gentlemen, more like the rednecks in pickup trucks from lesser romantic movies, as I quickly learned from one of them suddenly and without any warning lunge out at me. Now, anyone that knows me from way back when, might remember that I was a silver medalist in the 1980 Norwegian Junior championship in Karate, not too impressive now in 2013, but nevertheless….But I might add that in like most other sports I participated in, I quit after conquering the sport to a certain degree, The guy lunging at me did not know this of course, but I believe that my old coach, teacher or Sensei would have been proud of the perfectly executed blow that my body remembered well enough 40 something years later-to knock the Southern not so gentle man out in a split second. All of a sudden, the older homeless dude was not of importance to the guys, and the two other rednecks-the third was out flat on the street face down in the gutter-focused on the tall funny sounding foreigner in the fancy suit, that by the way didn’t want to be there. I find myself in a street fight, I am way too old to be in a street fight, I don’t want to be there, and I am really only defending myself. I for some reason remember the wise word of an English Cockney Street fighter instructor that held a class at the old Daruma Karate club in Oslo back in the 1980-81 timeframe that said in his British accent that if and when you ever find yourself in a street fight, all rules are out. Its survival time…. I quickly knock on of the guys in the face as he is coming towards me and he backs off, they are not working together, not sure of what I am all about, and the third guy lungs at me again. I kick him in the leg, just on the side of the knee, before following up with a blow to the face=the old Brit would have been proud, No one else would be, but the Brit would – I am sure of it, and the guy crumbles over. The second man comes toward me, and then, from behind, I feel a knock in the side, and I am flat on my face. With my arms locked behind me I see the two cops that has approached us from behind-on “Segways” I might add-continue to taser the last standing guy. And he crumbles in front of us. I lay there asking myself, -“What happened here, and why am I on my face in the street with a policeman holding me down?” I try to explain to the cop that the other guys were beating up on a guy, and I was trying to help him. He does not want to listen to anything even if I plead: “These guys are the ones you should get”. “The homeless man that the three other guys had a beef with, and the man I was trying to help has of course disappeared and is not around to help me”. In all the commotion, the old dude has of course snuck away, probably before the police came and he had to answer what was going on, God knows where he is and what his story was, but gone he is. The redneck –not the tasered one, he is still pretty miserable still after 150000 volts or so –he and the first guy is still pretty miserable on the ground, but the third one that was coming at me of course claims that I was the one that attacked them, for no apparent reason. The two cops don’t want to listen to any of us, not me – the foreigner in the now dirty Boss suit and a funny accent, and definitely not any of the three other guys. Next thing, I find myself in a police car, with a different policeman behind the wheel – the “Segway-policemen” have disappeared after handing me over to one police car and the others to another car-at least from what I saw. I am handcuffed- being handcuffed actually hurt pretty badly-at least when you have a slight arthritis in your wrists like my old body is starting to experience. I am handcuffed, and I am on the way to what I at the time thought and expected was going to be a few minutes at the station – explaining some station officer what actually had happened and that I had protected a man getting beat up, before hopefully heading back to the hotel……….Well, as I am trying to talk to the officer in the police car I start understanding that faith had another kind of night in mind………………………………
