FISTFIGHT WITH A BULLY IN 1974 CHICAGO

 It was a Saturday night in Chicago back in 1974. I was 25. I was out to dinner with my fiancée Janice and another couple. There was a guy named Al with his girlfriend  I used to play racquetball with. I met him at the sports club in the building I lived in. This was at a time I was a total anxiety ridden mess because of a fear of getting married because I didn't feel like a real man who could protect my wife from harm. At that time, like now, I was constantly anxiety ridden with obsessive compulsive disorder (OCD). I had this relentless feeling that I was not brave like my brother Joel always told me to be. It was all about physical courage. I had to now.  I had chickened out of so many fights and confrontations my entire life while trying to be like my idol Joel. I was athletic, smart,  kind of in the in crowd, but never the guy who was respected.  Joel was a matinee idol. When it was time to fight someone who was bullying me or others I backed out. In my group, in my old neighborhood, you had to be a fighter always ready to get into a punch up or you did not count. I did not count. That was when I was young but I never outgrew the feeling of being a coward.

But, this night at the Tap Root Pub restaurant near downtown Chicago it would be different. At the table behind us was a loud and rowdy group of eight people who looked to be 25 to 35 years old. I was in my early twenties. The noise was mainly made by a big, fat faced brute who was blowing out profanity and embarrassing us badly. I felt I should tell this table and this guy to hold it down. I sat there with my previously huge appetite erased as the fight or flight mechanism kicked in. 

Why did I pick that table to sit at I thought? Meanwhile, that old familiar call to run or act was triggered with each fuck and shit that I heard this loud ape blurt out. I listened to a little bit more and looked over at their table. I realized waiting them out to leave would not work. They were only into appetizers and alcohol. After another blast of foul mouthed profanity I arose and I stood up at their noisy table. The fat faced guy loudmouth and the others looked up at me. I said "Hey guys, would you hold down the language. The girls are getting embarrassed and uncomfortable. We just want to have a peaceable dinner". They all mostly nodded and  murmured ok. 

Unfortunately, not the pig making most of the noise, He leaned back in his chair and blurted out a good old fashioned "fuck you man" in a savage, drunken way. He just stared at me confrontationally, waiting for my next move. Without thinking, I pushed into that table and punched the loudmouth with two short rights to his sweaty face. It really took him by surprise?  You want to take this outside he blurted?" Before I could answer several of the other people jumped up and started making excuses for him. "Hey man, he's just loaded. Just forget about it would you?" I was scared shitless and only too happy to oblige. One of the more sober buys said "Come on everyone, let's go across street and get big Jim some coffee. There's no bar there". 

Thankfully, they all left and my heart came back inside my chest which was beating furiously. My friend Al praised me like I was superman as we safely got outside. The next day he  told our mutual friends about my heroic actions. I think Janice did not even see what had occurred because it happened so fast. That was one situation my idol brother Joel would have been proud of me.  I was dancing in my apartment in jubilation a few hours later. I actually got a small reputation as a gutty fighter after that night which I loved. But, my OCD soon took away the joy in my clear heart and mind as I again became the tortured OCD victim that I have been almost all my seventy six years.