Bar Fight At The Watervalley Saloon
17 years old, dating a 24-year-old, and sneaking into the bar was how I began the time after Dad passed away. The Watervalley Saloon was the easiest place to get into. Not even considered a town, Watervalley is this tiny little hamlet in the middle of nowhere. It even has the traditional saloon swinging doors, so you can feel like a true cowboy when you walk in, slamming both doors open.
I was there for wing night, without my then boyfriend, and there to have a good time. And a good time was being had! Back then, and on back country dirt roads, drinking and driving wasn’t exactly frowned upon. The only thing you could hit was the ditch, and almost everyone did it. I had no qualms about it, and was drinking, dancing, and having a great time.
What I didn’t realize was that my boyfriend's ex-girlfriend was there that night.
I was so busy having a good time, I didn’t notice the glares and stares that were being sent in my direction. I was laughing with my friends, flirting with the boys and completely oblivious as to what was about to happen.
I finally got to the end of my available cash, and had a handful of coins. I was headed up to the bar to get one last drink before I would head home due to lack of funds. And that was when she saw her moment. As I walked past the pool tables, she jumped me, and grabbed me by the throat. On the way down, all I could think of was saving all the coins in my hand because I was going to need a drink after this! Managing to get all my coins on the side of the pool table, down I went.
Now, my dad had been a second-degree black belt in karate, and I had much training from him, so I wasn’t overly concerned.
But due to my inebriation, I was a little slow on the draw.
As I went down, she began kicking me in the ribs, and my immediate reaction was to assume the fetal position to protect myself.
The thing with bar fights in small-town Alberta is that no one ever breaks them up. They are the entertainment, especially when it’s a girl fight. They are cheered on, not ended. So, despite my attempts to protect myself and hope for the best, as I lay there in the fetal position getting kicked over and over again, I came to the realization that the only person who was going to do something about this was me.
I took control of the situation.
It was when I felt a rib break that I got mad. I felt the rage flow through my body and I recognized my power surging through my blood. I reached up and grabbed her by the front of the shirt and proceeded to slam my ringed fist into her face. Needless to say, the fight ended within two punches, as I was trained to punch and hit my mark with absolute accuracy. She went down, and because of the ring on my finger, she was bleeding, and crying.
I stood up, gathered my wits about me, and grabbed my coins off the pool table beside where I had gone down. The entire bar was cheering and yelling. I was the star of the bar after that, and had no concerns about being able to afford another drink as half the bar swarmed toward me to congratulate me and offer to buy me a drink. She was kicked out.
The irony is that she was of age, and I wasn’t.
The underage drinker who ended the fight got to stay and became a local celebrity. About an hour later, my ribs started to ache and I realized how badly I had been hurt. It was time for me to go home. I drove home, and crawled into Mom’s bed to wake her up. I was so sad and angry that this had happened. How could someone not like me? I couldn’t understand why she had attacked me.
It took several weeks for me to heal from that bar fight, and years for me to recover from the fact that I had been in a fight to begin with. I never saw her again, even after telling my boyfriend what happened. It was as if she showed up in my presence that night to teach me to fight back, and to not be afraid of confronting my enemies head on, instead of hiding in the fetal position.
That night would stick with me for years, as I started to make more and more poor decisions about my life. It made me feel tough, and strong, and capable of anything. I knew that nothing would be able to take me out, which gave me a sense of confidence that may or may not have served me as the years went on.