The Fight

Another typical Australia night. Drinking on a Wednesday evening. I write this as I get back. Still shitfaced, my fingers still feel like mud. But this night was a little different; it ended with blood and cops.

It was another solidarity evening. I got many reinforcing messages. “Come here, you’re one of us now” is a wonderful thing to here. However, that feeling of belonging comes with a price tag. I spent about 40 bucks tonight. And it’s only Wednesday.

One of my new friends, name withheld, implied he knew where to find things. I waited until we left the club to enquire further. However, when I left the club, and crossed the street, I was confronted with a bloody face.

A man lies on the ground, in a woman’s arms. My first instinct was to help him; I’m trained in first aid, and I’m always offering to help those in need. But my friends hold me back. They insist I don’t interfere. I don’t understand what’s going on.

But I’m hungry, and don’t feel like dying, so I go to the kabob shop next door, and buy chicken on a stick. By the time I return, it’s over. I return to the scene, and insist forcefully “What the fuck happened?” All I hear is “Wu Tang”.

It’s been a fight. A boy from Emmanual College verses a local street gang, Wu Tang. They tussled and both ended up with bloody faces but no major injuries. However, as we walked to our taxis to make a quick exit, 3 police cars came roaring in. They stopped us from leaving, and made us sit.

Being a natural lawyer, I told my friends to shut the fuck up. I told them to say nothing until asked, and answer honestly with minimal details. I told them if any were directly involved, that they should demand a lawyer before speaking. However, in reality, I know nothing about Australian constitutional law. I just spoke out my ass. They listened.

After waiting for about 20 minutes, they took my name and mobile number, and let me go. Playing the innocent tourist works, but frankly, that’s actually the case with me. I saw virtually nothing, and knew nothing of the events surrounding the fight. The police may call me in the future, but my input is useless.

Point is, my study abroad advisor warned me about walking alone at night. She said fights happen in Brisbane. Living in New York, I expected that, but I didn’t expect to be confronted with it in a little shit bar on the outskirts of town. The danger is there. Look at a street gang funny, and you can be knifed. Maybe I need to reconsider what I consider safe.