Mad Brad: Duel or dance

What ever happened to epic duels and battles? You know, the ones where gentlemen would risk their lives to gunfire to settle disputes on properties, business, and love?

There was a time where merely questioning a man’s integrity was thought of as so damning to their reputation that a duel was in order. The value of someone’s family name was worth pacing 10 steps and lodging a bullet in a man’s head, and if a man did not accept a challenge, his legacy was stained with the smear of his shameful fear.

This past weekend, I witnessed the most despicable display of settling a disagreement among men that I have ever seen. At a Starbucks at three in the morning, I saw a group of well-dressed men beating a car in the parking lot. I proceeded outside with the hope of seeing an all-out brawl. At the other end of the parking lot stood a group of Asian men, one of whom was shirtless and yelling obscenities as the men continued to fight his car.

Someone outside began to call the cops, so the car assaulters started to leave, but one man’s testosterone was off the charts. He started into an epic sprint towards the shirtless man that was certain to lead to a legendary show down.

In self-defense the half-naked man threw a bottle but missed, and the man continued to charge. Once he got close he elevated into a flying kick like a Power Ranger, but somehow missed his target.

When he landed they engaged in an awkward bicker-dance. They circled each other yelling and shaking their bodies, and never threw a punch. I was dangerously confused as to what would provoke two men to gyrate and yell at each other in front of a crowd. There was no music, but anyone who saw this would have sworn it was a dance-off. It was a relief that the cops showed up because if they had continued to prance with each other someone could have pulled their groin.

It appears that honor has been reduced to horrendous recreations of West Side Story on the mean street of Westheimer near the Galleria. I would like to believe that these men just wanted to dance, but the sad truth is that they may be the prototype for the in-time male confrontation. No longer is it cool to kill. If you have a problem with your peer you must dance. You take your shirt and flip flops off, find a parking lot by a coffee house and gyrate to the rhythm of your heart.

I don’t believe that altercations should be solved through the firing of pistols, but I know that they shouldn’t be solved with Footloose reenactments at three in the morning. I would have much rather seen a man’s face blown off than the travesty I witnessed on Easter weekend. Sure witnessing a murder may have traumatized me, but at least I would have respect for the men.

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