The Tell-Tale Stoplight
By Twist of Fate
By Twist of Fate
As I walked through the untamed ferns and shrubbery of interstate 46 towards the 7/11, I gazed down one of the unpopulated side streets of town to keep myself entertained. It was around 2 in the morning but hey, I needed something to drink and something to do. I looked at the stoplight at one of the entrance ramps and remembered what my mother had frequently told me to impress me as a child. "Even at night," she said "the stoplights still did their work. When I was your age, they flashed orange at around 11 at night."
Now, a late teenager trying to keep my thoughts entertained on the empty streets of Jersey, I compared it to a heartbeat. You can be sleeping, hospitalized, in distress, or playing a sport and the heart always does what it's supposed to. It saves your life. Just like a stoplight. Difference is, the heart is dynamic. It reacts to both your emotions and your physical condition. However, stoplights illuminate what goes down. They stand as sort of a lighthouse to what goes on under them. Say you get into an accident on a poorly known intersection. Say you're lost and ask someone for directions. Say its late at night, where I was. No visible road signs. Just remember which light you're on and it's your pathmark to salvation.
I had that experience with a former friend of mine. Not tonight. Now back to where I'm going since collecting my thoughts for this story have pretty much led me down the opposite direction, there were no stoplights. I turn back and walk towards the 7/11 which has lights and neon signs that pretty much illuminated the entire parking lot of the shopping center.
The thing I like about 24 hours stores is, no one looks at you funny. You aren't judged for what age you are and how late your out, or for what you buy. I went to the freezers in the back for 2 monster energy drinks and that new flavor of 5 gum. What I never understood was, all of the flavors have "NEW!" labeled on the packages. I swear, I never know what's actually new. I just know what I haven't had yet. I grab my stuff, put it on the counter. "$4.56.", said the clerk. "Thanks." I said as I take the change of .46 cents and put it in the charity container for poor children. That's another thing I didn't quite understand. This might seem a little cynical, but I don't believe people actually care about what their change is going towards. I think that people see it as a sort of convenience to get rid of their unwanted annoying change. Well, at least that's what I do. But I guess those children who are less fortunate who are actually getting helped will thank me in their minds. That's what gives me just a little bit of faith. Kind of like an anonymous good Samaritan thing.
As I walked home on the same trail as before, I passed "Charley's bar". I saw a woman and her husband smoking outside and didn't think much of it. I walked pass and the woman says "Hello. You get home safe, alright?" "Thank you, I will.", I responded. "Oh, and Happy Fourth of July.", she said. "Thanks, you too!" I replied. Now that's what REALLY gave me hope. A lot of people say "A picture paints a thousand words". I think that a conversation like that with a total stranger means more.
I continued down the hill and then up another, my street. I walked inside, cracked open one of my monsters and put the other one in the fridge. I got online and my friend who I've never seen in person talked to me. We talked about school, mainly sports we were doing next year. He was a fighter, into wrestling. A former WWE addict who moved on to UFC and all that. His name was Andrew, also a street fighter. He started talking to me about all of these fights that he had gotten in to. To you he might sound like a thug, but he isn't. He has a pretty good outlook on his career as a professional fighter. Believe me, he has a much brighter future going than I do. If it makes him happy, hey more power to him. We also had Tae Kwon Do status. Of course, Andrew had it all going for him. He was on top, well versed and well known in submissions and grapples.
Eventually, I did grow tired of all this and decided to end the conversation. A bit full of himself after a while. I finished my monster and then completely crashed on the air mattress in the basement living room I called a bed at the time. I woke up and talked to Andrew again.
"Hey, you wanna see me fight at the AMC this weekend?"
"Sure", I said. "I'll bring a few friends you knew from our school."
"That's great, I'm fighting this Russian guy. Last fight I got in 30 hits, 3 of them head shots. I got him to the ground and got him into a guillotine. Woulda passed out if I didn't let go."
"Haha, congrats bro", I replied. "Well I'm gonna go out now, hit me up later."
Of course I wasn't going out, but I was going to the fight. The AMC theater was at an intersection. The stoplight there was famous for it's lengthy red lights and exponentially short green lights. I swear, the yellow lights took almost more time than green. It's said that on average, a person spends two weeks of their life at a red light. Whenever I look at that stoplight, I know it's gotta be more. I cracked open the other monster, and asked a few friends that me and Andrew both knew from the old days to come to the fight. They all did since there was pretty much nothing going on that weekend.
Next day, the day of the fight. I hadn't talked to Andrew since. I got in my car and picked up my friend and we started for the theater. Lucky for me, there was traffic. I got caught at the theater stoplight twice. I saw about 30 people there all ready to see some blood. It was a big hangout once but the cops kept coming every weekend since nobody there was seeing a movie. The staff didn't seem to mind this time because they didn't realize there was going to be a fight. Most likely Andrew's last.
The Russian kid, who was called "Church", showed up. He didn't talk to Andrew and there was no post-fight hostility. Church was a boxer. "Locker Boxing" was what they called it at his school. Basically, you get some sparring gloves from any martial arts store and fight like hell in the locker room. That didn't happen at my school anymore because of some kids who lit a trashcan on fire outside. Now there's a camera at the entrance. My friends and I took a seat on the stone wall on the side. Enough to get a good view but to stay out of the crowd. Both Andrew and Church stood in the center of the circle made by the crowd. I couldn't hear a word of what they were saying. There's always pre-game trash talk, though which I find to be very cliche and quite lame.
Then the fight started. They had agreed on no knees and no kicks. Head shots were legal. Church was a dirty fighter. Andrew got pushed into a "No parking anytime" sign and the side of his head got cut pretty badly. He didn't freak out though, even though as far as he knew his ear could have been cut off! After the audience saw him get pretty much wrecked, he felt his ear for blood. Church stopped which gave Andrew the perfect opportunity to get church into a reverse arm bar which then turned into a triangle choke. Church refused to tap. It was the guillotine all over again. Out of desperation, Church pulled brass knuckles out of his side jeans pocket and nailed Andrew on his wounded ear. He kind of just passed out. Church didn't realize it so he put Andrew into an ankle lock that damn near could have snapped his achillies.
The crowd broke it up and by now the police were arriving. As the action continued and Church was gasping for air covered in sweat and a bit of Andrew's blood, he sort of transformed. Really, he was freaking out. The police shouted questions to the crowd and shouted "Ok break it up!" Normal cop cliches but what else would they say in this type of excitement? By this point, everyone was freaking out. Even my friends and I. We were thinking of just bailing, which eventually we did. We crossed the street to a Chinese restaurant and made it look like we were coming out.
Next, an ambulance came and Church was arrested. Andrew was still motionless. He was still alive, don't worry, but the scene was just ugly. A whole new experience for us. We walked home talking about what just went on. I can't really tell you what happened to Andrew after that. I just know that he was still alive. I began questioning what would become of his fighting career after this. He is a great fighter when it comes to playing it clean, but I know this has never happened to him before. For now, I can just hope his stoplight, his pulse won't flash the yellow caution that my mother had explained to me early in life.
This story was inspired by my friend, Jose, who both gave me the inspiration and experience to write this.
