Sunday, May 21, 2006

Some Thoughts On Raging Boozed Fights

My fiancee woke me at 3am this morning to explain that our friend, we'll call him Clark for shits, would be sleeping in our living room, as he had had an enormous fight with our old roommate, whom we'll call Rico, also for shits. We love both Rico and Clark, but both have a reputation for having a dark side when drunk. Clark is quite a large fucker, muscle wise, and Rico can certainly hold his own.

Yesterday was Clark's birthday. He's been living with Rico ever since he broke up with his fiancee in St. Louis and moved back to Dallas. Rico now lives in a good-sized-for-one-person one bedroom. He really just wants to live on his own, but has put up Clark for seven months now. I guess the irriation has just been itching and building, because last night in their drunken drive back to the apartment, Clark punched Rico in the arm while he was driving, which somehow detonated an enormous festering rage. The two began screaming at each other, just as Rico pulled into our apartments. They got out of the car and my fiancee had to get between them before the fistfight began.

We've both seen glimpses of Rico's dark side before, and really assumed that this morning all would be better. Nothing like being shitfaced to encourage an overreaction. But somehow he is still unmovingly pissed. No one, especially Clark who barely remembers anything, is really sure why.

As a really gruesome kicker, after Rico left, Clark was so raging mad (he has a tendency to get in fights more than most, especially when drunk) that he punched the everloving fuck out of the stucco wall surrounding one of our dumpsters, then punched a neighboring apartments' "Now Leasing" sign right in two. He can barely use either of his hands this morning and his right hand is undoubtedly broken. How he has not already gone to have it taken care of boggles my mind. However angry I have ever been, I have not one iota of doubt that I could never get to that point. I also realize it's a very male moment, the drunken fistfights, the super-aggressive violence, especially when angrily confronted by another alpha male, but luckily my fiancee Derek has never expressed even a passing glimpse of such tendencies, and I think I have seen him at every conceivable stage of drunkenness.

We have had to drop him off with a co-worker. He uncomfortably asked if he could stay another night, but as my fiancee told me, "If you feed a stray cat once, well, you have a cat." I was feeling bad, as I was fairly sure he had me in mind when he tuned Clark down. I do feel awful still, as we're both fairly sure Clark couldn't feel more worthless. Derek spoke with Rico, who said that Clark shouldn't even call today to apologize. And while I wasn't even there, I can't help but feel that Rico was also partly responsible and shouldn't be this intensely angry. We must all be missing something, and it's unfortunate that in Clark's post-drunk haze, he can recall nothing. So who's to say?

We're hoping to take Rico out for a couple drinks at the Saucer tomorrow night, and if it comes up, it comes up. I'm pretty sure Clark will be on his way back to Oklahoma tomorrow as it is. How depressing.

On a more positive note, we're both looking very much forward to our trip to Midland in the first week of June (I know, who'd have guessed?), but Derek's best friend is getting married, so that will be quite enjoyable. I'm so relieved that so far I seem to really like Derek's good friends. I don't have to worry about being One of Those Wives. I'm dreading the five hour cartrip (the return trip moreso--uh, back to Dallas, yea?), but hopefully we'll be in very good spirits and I won't be in one of my bitchy irked moods.

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