Attacked in Cork, like...

Not a savage attack, really.  But in my history of grandiose retellings of minor stories, I figured I would add this one to the fray. *** The Pre-Fight Hans and I went early to the Bierhaus on the North Quay near the Franciscan Well to grab a few with the lads; Brien, Owen, Tracey, Casey et al.  This group is probably the most riotously quick-witted bunch I've ever run across.  My sides are still hurting from the zingers all night. This lasted most of the evening- and i will post some video when I return State-side.  When we finished there, we decided that some salsa dancing was in order.  Brien, Tracy, Hans and myself scooted over to the Qube to dance. I've not been in the Qube for over 2 years, but it's absolutely the same.  I'm glad some things still are around here. Anyway, as it turns out, Tracey is not only drop-dead gorgeous, but a splendid dancer.  So, using her as a pivot, we danced around the club showing off our moves, before cutting out to dance with some beautiful Polish girls.  A the night wore on, I saw a fellow in the corner talking to his pint.  I locked eyes with him for just a split second while dancing, and he roared immediately: "What.... the f&£k.. .are you looking at, ya wanker?!"  I figured he was drunk, so I just danced on and ignored him as he turned his rage to a bartender who accidentally picked up his pint, thinking it was empty. *** Attacked! We finished the night on a grand scale, having danced our hearts out.  We bid adieu to Brien and Tracy and decided some fish n' chips were in order.  The chippers ended up being closed, so we grabbed burgers from a small Indian take-away place. Walking down MacCurtain street, munching salt-leaden, piping hot chips, a fellow with a dark coat turns around and says, "Hey lads, would you be knowing how to get a cab around here?" Big hearted Hans stops and says, "Right.  There's a place just down the street. You'll be grand, like." "Oh, I'll be grand, will I?  You f@$king wanka"  The sneer grew across his lips as he began calling us all sorts of foul names. "Alright," I said, " we're just going home.  we just want to eat our chips and wont have trouble." "Oh" he sneered, "you won't have trouble and just eat your f@@£ing chips?"  It was at this moment, I realized it was the same fellow from the club, and realized simultaneously that this was not going to end well. Oddly enough, I didn't feel any concern.  In fact, all I could think about was how I was hoping I wouldn't drop my chips. We tried to brush past when he started shoving us backwards. He cackled, "Im only joking lads!"  Then the smile returned to a sneer as he took his first swing at Hans.  Hans ducked under it and walked forward past him.  At this moment, I figured that I better gingerly put my chips down or I was gonna lose them. The fellow swung around and gave me a boot in the backside as I did so.  I nearly swung back, but Hans stopped me, in that Hans doesn't want to deal with the gardai (cops) given his more complicated immigrant status. "Let's just go," he said calmly.  He kicked Hans as Hans finished the sentence.  Hans reeled to the side, but it was clearly not a well aimed kick, fueled by who-knows-how many pints. Unfortunately, the man looked so goofy kicking Hans that I actually laughed.  In the words of Ron Burgundy: "I immediately regret that decision." The man flew at me in a rage kicking and swinging.  I jumped away from one kick, ducked under a swing-- stupidly still laughing.  The expletives spittled from his rage and he staggered from side to side kicking and swinging himself almost into the ground. " You pieces of s£it!" he screamed.  "I know, I know" I responded and turned around to walk away.  He began running after us, but just then a cop showed up in a car.  So he shouted one more obscenity and walked away.  I don't imagine that anything happened to him, because we didn't let the gardai know, but at least it was over. ***

Debrief "I'm so sorry!" said Hans, "you're only back for a couple days and we get attacked." I was still worried about my chips, actually.  It wouldn't be until the next morning before I thought we may have actually been in trouble, if he had pulled a knife or something.  I just figured he was a drunk langer who was looking for trouble. I would like to say that this was the first time I'd ever been confronted without provocation, but unfortunately, it was not the case.  Still, it was one of the more amusing ones.  I darted around to my chips, still on the ground.  Grabbed them.  But now, my appetite was waning.  I didn't finish them until the morning.

Then the smile returned to a sneer as he took his first swing at Hans...