I Don't Know Kung Fu, but I Know You're Drunk
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Self-Control to the Hilt
Bloor Station Floor Tile Ad, Toronto (October 2004)
It wasn't our subway stop yet. But this guy was telling us to leave "his train".
"Ill blows the wind that profits nobody", that's what I was thinking in Tagalog as I I looked beyond the eyes of the drunk man. Nothing will come out good if I hit him nor answer him back for all the useless expletives directed to my wife and me. Understand that he was reeking with alcohol at 3pm, and he wanted the space where we were almost 5 minutes ahead of him. "Move chink." was not the best pick up line you can say to my wife. "I said, move chink". After my wife asked what his problem was, he started to throw every bad word in the world and the whole train turned from fiesta to a mausoleum. I asked my wife to move back and tried to cover her. I don't know any self-defence and never did try using my hands in anything violent.
But this time, I was ready.
He didn't stop talking trash from Wellesley to Bloor. A full minute or two, but I felt it was like forever. He introduced himself as Irish, but U2's Bono is Irish but he can't be a pig like this guy. He tried punching the train railing several times trying to prove he can take me anytime. In fact, with his impaired vision I could take a southpaw punch and knock him out cold. The Spirit held me back.
An angel from the other side of the train came to the rescue and diverted his attention from us. We didn't want to go down the train. It wasn't our stop. I was in control of myself and looked away. He ended up with a sore fist. He came out the loser in the end.
Welcome to "Toronto the Good".