El Bandido: The Bluff That Saved Me From a Beating

My friend used to ask if I had ever been a bandido, which is like a thug. I always told her no, but I admitted that I had hung out with some bad people and witnessed some rough situations.

Whenever we went out, we would sneak in petacas — as my South American friends called them — small bottles of liquor since the prices inside the clubs were crazy. I was always on guard, especially when my friends were dancing, because I’m overprotective, and they trusted me to look out for their safety. I would stay close so no one would push them, especially in crowded places.

On that particular day, a guy kept pushing one of my friends, and she became irritated. I nearly got into a fight with him, but the girls pulled me away before I could get into trouble, and the guy left. Later, I went out to smoke, and when I came back, I saw my friends trying to separate another friend who was yelling at someone. I sneaked in and started following the guy, telling him, “Come here, I want to talk to you,” but he left. I noticed another guy who had been involved, and I asked him, “What do you want?” He replied, “Your friend was pushing me.”

I was angry and looking for an excuse to let out my frustration, but when he told me it was my friend’s fault, I felt guilty. So, I asked him politely what had happened. He explained that nothing much had occurred, but my friend had pushed him during a scuffle. I felt bad and apologized on behalf of myself and my friend.

A while later, I went out to smoke again. As I was standing on the last step, trying to light my cigarette, the bouncers started yelling at me and pushed me. I got angry but tried to keep calm, thinking, “Who the hell is he to push me?” At the same time, I reminded myself that it was his job, but he could have spoken to me nicely. I started telling him to speak to me politely, but in an angry tone. Another bouncer saw this and tried to kick me, but I stepped back just in time.

Even though I was furious, I remained calm because my friends and my jacket were still inside, and I didn’t want to cause any trouble. I asked for my jacket, which was in the coat check. A bouncer, who was always nice to me, came and escorted me inside. I told him I wanted the second bouncer’s name or phone number since he was the one who tried to kick me. He advised me to calm down, but I told him, “Don’t worry, I’ll get it myself.”

I found my friend and asked for the ticket to get my jacket. When she asked what happened, I answered in an angry tone and told her I was going home. She saw how upset I was and didn’t want me to go alone. As we were leaving, I got angry again when I saw the two bouncers. I demanded an apology from them. One of them apologized, but I insisted that the other one apologize as well. The first bouncer said he spoke for both of them, but when the second bouncer saw me, he started screaming at me. I screamed back.

My friend put her hands over my mouth and started pushing me away. She told the bouncers that I was the nicest guy she had ever met and that she didn’t know what was happening to me because it was the first time she had seen me angry. Well, I have what you could call “nice guy syndrome,” but the downside is that all the repressed anger eventually comes out, sometimes on people who don’t deserve it.

My friend apologized to the bouncers, which made me even angrier. I started screaming and cursing in Arabic. You should have seen the bouncers’ faces — they knew I was trouble since North African Arabs had a bad reputation in that country. I’m not proud of this, but I used it to my advantage later that night. I knew I had to do something to get the apology I wanted. My friend spoke to me in a calming, soothing voice, like a mother calming her child.

We walked home, which was about 13 minutes away. My lighter had stopped working, and I was still angry, needing a cigarette. My friend started asking people for a lighter, but I was too angry to stop and just wanted to keep walking. Eventually, she caught up to me, handed me a lighter, and I lit my cigarette. But as I walked, I cursed and muttered all the bad things I wanted to do to the bouncers, with tears of anger in my eyes. I hit a tree next to me and messed up my hand. Every time I almost get into a fight or after a fight when I’m not satisfied with the result, I tend to punch or kick something. I stopped kicking things after I broke my toe the last time, which might have saved me from ending up at the police station, but that’s another story.

She hugged me — she always knew what to do when I was in a bad mood — and I shed some tears from the anger and frustration. My other two friends, who lived with us, caught up to us. They started asking my friend what happened while I walked ahead of them, thinking about what to do next. I had a plan. I got home before them, put on my black hoodie, waited in the stairwell for them to get home, and then headed back to the club. They started calling me, but I didn’t answer. I only sent an apology to my friend.

On my way to the club, I was thinking about what I should do. I needed an apology to calm myself down. The first scenario I considered was asking for an apology and ending up fighting all the bouncers, which was the worst-case scenario. The second scenario was them apologizing, but I knew I had to scare them or talk nicely to get that apology. I had tried talking nicely before, and they took advantage of it, so I had to be tough. It was 5 a.m., and I had my plan ready.

I’m not going to lie — I considered bringing something like a bat or a metal rod in case I had to fight, but I didn’t find one and didn’t want to hurt anyone badly. When I arrived, the bouncers saw me and immediately got on guard. I walked slowly, dressed in black on black, my eyes cold and sharp with all the built-up anger. I said to them, “Will you guys apologize, or should I come back tomorrow with my cousins?” I said it in the coldest, most sarcastic tone I could, with a crazy smile. I knew that to get an apology, I should be cold. They both looked at me and apologized — they took my bluff.

The truth is, I didn’t have anyone to back me up if things had gone south. I didn’t even have cousins in that country. What a beating I would have gotten. After they apologized, I was still mad. The apology didn’t kill my anger as I had hoped. Maybe I just wanted to feel something by hitting and getting hit. I had had a fight with a girl I liked a few days before, and maybe that was the real reason I was so angry. So, what could I do to kill my anger and feel better about myself? Messing with them was the answer.

I knew I had the upper hand, so I started messing with them. I asked, “Was it that hard to apologize?” They pleaded with me to leave. I told them they had hurt my pride, but since they apologized, I would leave. But first, I asked, “Can you light my cigarette? I don’t have a lighter.” How ironic — all of this started because of a cigarette. A girl next to me handed me a lighter. I lit my cigarette and left, laughing loudly.

When I got home, my friends were waiting for me, angry, and started giving me a lecture about why I shouldn’t have done what I did. My friend was screaming at me like my mom. I love them. That day, my friends learned that all the crazy stories I had told them were true. To be honest, I would have done worse if it wasn’t for them. They were my family, and I was theirs. I would always protect them, especially the girls. They would always look out for me and ask about me. Whenever I was depressed, they would try to cheer me up, and whenever they had trouble, I was there for them. I was their parent, and they were mine.

I went back to that club with the same guys about three or four times after that. I would always try to sneak in between my friends since one of the bouncers was always at the door, but he never spoke to me. The nice bouncer inside still said hi back whenever I greeted him, though he never initiated it. I guess my bluff was a good one, and I’m happy they didn’t beat my ass.

To be honest, bluffing doesn’t always work — I’ve gotten my ass kicked plenty of times in the past. But I never backed down; I always stood my ground and tried to fight back. Now that I think about it, sometimes escaping is the best option. Fighting three or more guys doesn’t make you a man; it just makes you a fool. But thank God this time, my bluff worked. From personal experience, bluffs sometimes work, but if you push your luck too far, they might hit you. So, don’t play with your luck, and always know when to stop.

I guess I knew this, but I was lying to myself. I had gotten into a fight with a girl I had feelings for, struggled to find an internship, and felt depressed from repressing all my emotions. I was trying to numb myself, and anger became the only way I could feel strong again, so it was the only emotion I knew how to express. I was angry at myself and angry at the world. I suppose I’m still angry about things that weren’t my fault and that I couldn’t control.

I know I need to let go, but I don’t know how. I’m trying, but it’s so hard when I think about that girl every second of my day, still the beautiful things that i see in her and the happy moments haunt me.

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