That time...

One time I got into a bar fight. Kind of.

I was 18 and in England. I was allowed in the pub because over there the drinking age is 18, just like Alberta. Anyway, I was out with some of the staff from the school I worked at and it was a happening weekend night. The only thing to do in the ghetto little town I lived in was to go to the pub, so I'd tag along, have a Strongbow (in retrospect, yuck) and pretend like it wasn't a totally foreign world to me while everyone else got smashed. Party on, Anna.

So it was a relatively busy night in the good old pub, and one of the teachers was buying a round. There was a bit of a crowd around the bar, so he passed the drinks back to myself and the rest of our little group. I was handed my drink and starting to head back to my seat when it happened. A quick smack up the back of my head. By a random, scantily clad local woman.

The world stopped for a moment as what had just happened sunk in. The moment ended when my colleagues jumped in saying things like, "Don't get into with her, Anna," and, "Walk away, just walk away." They clearly didn't know me very well because I threw my drink in her face and scratched her eyes out in revenge.

No, that didn't happen. I just laughed about it. No part of me has ever wanted to get into it with someone. Not only would I probably get scalped in the process, but I had no desire, nor will I ever, of getting into a bar brawl. Any brawl, for that matter. If people want to smack me around because I got my drink before them, while I'm not exactly okay with it, I guess that's their prerogative.

It was a surreal experience. There I was, just waiting for my drink so I could socialise with people I didn't real like, who clearly thought I was a closet brawler, when someone, who clearly didn't need any more alcohol, decided to try and start something with me. Jokes on her, I paid attention in elementary school.

Now I can say I got into a bar fight. More or less.