I was walking down one of the less lighted streets of Rio De Janeiro. As I reached the half way point of the block a young man came up beside me. He appeared to be in his early twenties and wore a tight brown knit shirt with black pants and soft loafer type shoes. He was probably 5' 5 inches tall with a very lean build. His dark, greasy hair was shortly cropped and he was clean shaven. The stranger asked me what time it was in Portuguese. I figured out what he wanted but struggled to respond. I said "noave e bente hora" (9:30 in broken Spanish) which probably wasn't the right response in Brazil, but hopefully close enough.
With no change in the tempo or volume of his voice, he said "Give me your wallet".
I responded by saying "No Compendio" (I don't understand) and started looking around. As I observed that there was nobody else on the street he repeated "Your wallet, give it to me".
About a block away I saw a sidewalk cafe that appeared to be open (well lighted). I replied "I don't think so" in a non aggressive voice. As he started talking I noticed his hand was up under his shirt, holding something that was pointed at me.
His voice had no inflection what so ever. "There are no Policia, nobody here to help you. You are alone. I am Mafioso. Give me your wallet".
With another quick glance in all directions to insure it was just the two of us, I responded. "If we are alone, who will protect you? I will hurt you".
His face showed slight confusion. I decided the thing under his shirt was his hand (I could see his knuckle). Perhaps still puzzled by my reply in English he repeated "No one will help you, give me your wallet".
For me, the world slowed down and my mind gained remarkable clarity. In the next 3 or 4 steps, I sorted my options. Odds were it was just his hand in his shirt trying to intimidate me. There was no way it was a gun, too small and there as that knuckle. It was a long shot, but there was a remote possibility that he had a knife. In my right hand, which was tight against my pants pocket to prevent access, I carried a small umbrella with a sharp pointed hook for a handle, folded up. My left hand was free. I quickly decided it would be pointless to run, I'm just too big, too old, too slow, and I didn't want him behind me where I couldn't see him. He was too close to kick. I could probably connect with a reverse elbow to the neck but he might see it coming and even if he didn't, there were the consequences of seriously injuring someone in a country where I was a foreigner and didn’t even speak the language. Further, there was the problem of the umbrella. I didn't want to drop it because I envisioned using it as a bongmongee if he had a knife, and I wasn't sure how a hand full of umbrella would change the dynamic of a reverse elbow strike.
I decided three things. First was that I needed him to be more than an arms length away on the outside chance he had a knife. Next, I needed to be at an angle that was facing him or at least perpendicular so my kicks would be more effective. Finally, I remembered that 70% of communication is non verbal and I decided I needed some strong non-verbal communication that clearly said "You need to find a new hobby".
My plan to meet these three objectives was to quickly turn, push him back 3 or 4 feet and shout "Deixe me em paz" (leave me alone - a phrase I memorized a day earlier when trying to deal with highly persistent adolescent beggars). He only had one hand available (the other was in his shirt) so if I turned quickly odds of him reacting in a way that surprised me were small.
The way it played out in my mind, once I was turned, he would be free to leave. If he took a step toward me it was a clear signal of hostility and permission for me to take advantage of the physical facts, those being:
- If I was fast he would never see the confrontation coming (and have time to pull his hand out of his shirt).
- I probably outweighed him by something like 100 pounds.
- His diaphragm was about the same height I set up for board breaks.
- Landing the full force step side kick, would likely give me the extra time I needed to get to the restaurant before he did. (Hey, injuring my friend Brant Paquette was a fade away reverse, a full force number three was bound to put this guy, who was smaller than Brant, on the ground and I figured he would be very slow getting up). If I didn’t have a good shot at the diaphragm I planned to take out a knee.
The plan seemed pretty solid after I finished analyzing it for a good 1.2 seconds. As it turns out, these things never go the way you plan.
Years later a friend asked me if I had to decide what to do or if my martial arts training made it automatic. I explained that at the time it was happening, it was just happening. I sat down afterwards and wrote it all down so it must have been automatic. I expect it was automatic because we did this so many times in class. Combine that with the adrenalin produced as I played out my role in my first robbery, and it seems I lost some of the finesse and control expected of me during a sparring match.
I did a double time step forward and pivoted on my right foot. The hand with the umbrella shot forward and as my left hand drew back and curled into a palm heel. I said "Diexe me (pronounced ‘dayeesh meh’) in a fairly normal voice, but the last part came out more like a ki-hap (PIE-TES!!).
My right hand shot back to my right side as the palm my left hand rocketed forward, striking him about 2/3 of the way up his sternum. His face showed utter shock and both feet lifted off the ground. He turned a half turn in the air and landed on his back on the sidewalk. I jumped into a sparring stance and screamed “I AM GOING TO HURT YOU – MURERTO!!” (It was actually so loud it even surprised me).
The assailant (assuming I wasn’t the assailant) did a kind of fast crab walk back 3 or 4 steps yelling “desculpe! desculpe!” (which meant nothing to me). He jumped back to his feet and said “pardonee!”, gave me a thumbs up sign and headed the other direction. I stood and watched him until he disappeared around the corner then I quickly crossed the street and headed for the lighted, open air restaurant. I didn’t stop but as I walked by everyone in the restaurant was staring at me.
A few blocks later I was back at the hotel. Five hours after that (2 in the morning) I was still lying in bed, wide awake replaying the whole thing in my mind, over and over. An experience like this one makes a great story, but is really leaves you wired when it’s over.
Later, a Portuguese speaking friend explained that "desculpe" means "I'm sorry – excuse me". I guess the whole experience was best summed up by the words of another friend (Dan Sims) who said "Karate Lessons $1680, Sparring Gear $145, Tournament Entry Fees $1120, Kicking the butt of the scum bag that tried to steal your wallet --- Priceless!…
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