I was waiting for a cab last night, coming home after the Red Sox game, which I watched at Dempsey’s in the East Village. I stood in line in Hoboken, with a bunch of other drunk Yahoos. Anyone who has spent any time in Hoboken on a Friday or a Saturday night will know what an absolute madhouse it is.
I mean, hey, whatever, let the kids have their fun … but the AMATEUR drunks are what I’m talking about. It’s like the entire town turns into a raging frat party. Vomiting people on the sidewalks, fights breaking out, sloppy sloppy sloppy drunk staggering … Whatever floats your boat. It just ain’t my scene, and it never was.
Truly dangerous bar fights break out, because it’s a post-college-guys-who-can’t-control-their-liquor social scene. At around 2 or 3, when the bars start to close, is when the vibe on the streets starts to get a bit scary. If you’re a woman walking down them by yourself, I mean. Washington Street transforms into a gauntlet of nicely dressed absolutely wasted white boys – hostile wasted white boys. They travel in packs, large groups of roving drunk post-frat-boys, who have not hooked up with someone yet. Their mission of sex for the night was not accomplished. And now they’re too drunk for a hook-up anyway, but that doesn’t stop them from getting in the goddamn face of every woman unfortunate enough to be strolling by them.
If any of you people have ever hung out in Hoboken recently, you will so know what I am getting at. The chicks in Hoboken aren’t much better. Drunk, sloppy, they all look like rejects from the first round of casting for The Bachelor.
Again, whatever. It’s a social scene – for a specific age and place …. everyone is in the 21 to 27 range, everyone’s having fun … I mean, that kind of sloppy drunk stuff never appealed to me, even when I was 24, whatever, I was in a whole different place during that age-range. I was hanging out with Chicago boys in pool halls, going to improv shows, and laughing like crazy.
Basically, I like a guy who can hold his liquor. A sloppy out-of-control hostile drunk makes me freakin’ nervous.
Call me unreasonable, but whatever.
Anyway, long story longer.
A guy got so in my face last night, as I waited for the cab, and got so in my personal space, and he kept saying the word “c***s***er” – RIGHT AT ME – that I finally hauled off and slapped him across the face. As hard as I could.
WHAP.
Please keep in mind that this is not some insane homeless drunk. This is a cleancut guy wearing khakis, a Polo shirt, with a nice haircut.
Here’s how it went. I was standing in line, waiting for a cab. It was 2 am. A bad time to be in Hoboken on a Saturday night, if you’re a chick, all by yourself. You have to pretend you’re wearing a walkman, and you have no peripheral vision, in order to avoid all the SHIT you get tossed at you. This guy obviously hadn’t gotten laid yet, despite an entire night of carousing – and so all his hostility towards all the women who had probably turned his sorry drunken ass down over the night – came right out at me. I knew it had nothing to do with me, not really, but whatever. I’m not gonna be a fucking therapist for your precious pain when you get 2 inches away from my face and say “Do you like that word? C***s***er?? Huh?”
He was with a group of friends who were also WASTED – but one of them had some semblance of manners still surviving beneath the flood of alcohol – and when the guy got in my face like that, the friend with the vague memory of manners intervened, drunkenly. Turned on his friend and said, “What the hell are you doing, talking to her like that? What is your problem?”
But he wouldn’t stop – he was on a mission to humiliate me and frighten me, in order to pay back all the other bitches who had rejected him. Hostility like his has a scent. It’s not logical. It’s an animal response.
Right up against my nose, wafting alcohol-breath into my face, saying “c***s***er” at me …
I said, immediately, firmly, “Please back off – gimme some space… ” This was like a red flag to a bull.
He said the c word one too many times. It wasn’t just a word, coming from him. It was … an intimidation tactic, maybe? He wanted to see me embarrassed?
I don’t know. And I don’t care.
So I slapped his face. I mean – Jeez. I was coming back from a really fun night, with my friend Jen, my sister Siobhan, my friend Nate … we had hung out, watched the Red Sox, laughed so hard we cried, had great conversations … and now I come home and have to deal with this nonsense?
The slapping made QUITE a scene.
I’m 5′ 4″. This guy was probably 6′ 2″. A big tall sloppy young drunk.
The look on his face after the slap was one of the most beautiful and satisfying things I had ever seen in my life.
But I wasn’t going to hold a grudge. Once I punished him, I was done. I was still trembling, though, from … fear … adrenaline … whatever … I turned and watched the line of cabs advance. Strangely, I felt like crying. I think it was just because a confrontation like that is upsetting, in general.
The friend with the manners was kind of beside himself (in a drunken sweet way) over how his friend had acted, and said, “Please … go in front of us … take our spot in line …”
The slapped-man stepped back to let me pass. He looked …. horrified. In a deep-down “oh God I am so out of control” way. He remembered his fucking manners, he remembered that I am a goddamn person sharing space with him on the sidewalk, and not a holograph of all the women who said “No” to him over the night.
I stepped in front of the group. My knees were trembling.
A cab pulled up, and I got in. Gratefully. It already had taken on this strange unreality … did that really just happen?
The second I got into the cab, I heard a fight break out – between the three guys I had just left.
The kind one with the manners started yelling at the guy I slapped, “Jesus Christ – dude – you are so – what the FUCK -”
Slapped-dude was drunkenly defending himself, “What the fuck is your problem …”
“You just … you don’t get it … SHIT, you do this every time …”
Blah blah.
As my cab pulled away, I saw guy-with-manners shove slapped-guy – in a manner which suggested it could escalate into a big ol’ fight.
But I was safe now, on my way home, to my lovely curtains, and my comfy bed … leaving behind the chaos of the sloppy amateur-drunk social scene of Hoboken.
It felt good to slap that guy. But still. It took me about half an hour to stop shaking.
BRAVO!!!!
BRAVO!!!!
Oh my gawd, I wish I could have seen that.
Of course, I am also sorry that A) Beer makes men holler. B)Amateur drunks wear their feelings on the outside. C) Said idiot felt it necessary to use an intimidation tactic to make him feel better for failing so miserably at ‘carousing’
Good Shot.
It was the kind of thing where – if my brother had been standing next to me??? That guy would be freakin’ DEAD. I was alone, though – had to step up to the plate for my own damn self.
Of course, if my brother had been standing there with me – the guy might not have gotten in my face in the first place. I was “defenseless”.
Well done, red.
After the word of his conduct gets around at the Hoboken Guild of Girls hall, his mother will doubtless schedule delivery of additional guilt and training.
In addition to what his friends will have already done. It’s difficult enough to meet ladies without one of your own party behaving in such a loutish manner.
You did good. Better, you did exactly right.
Well done Red…
Situations like that are why I recommend women have a Plan A, B, C, and D for self defense. You effectively executed Plan A, but I’d feel better if you also had a black belt, a can of mace, and a gun.Or maybe a black belt, mace, gun, and big scary boyfriend.
Good! He deserves worse!
I’ll bet that wasn’t the first time that a**hole got slapped in the face by a woman. Red, I’m glad you came through unscathed.
And the shakes? Just adreneline. Fugeddaboutit!
man, ken really has to get some control…
seriously, i’m glad you’re ok. and it’s a good sign that there was at least one decent fellow there….well, semi-decent, at least.
okay.. i ALWAYS wait with you there while you catch a cab and the ONE night i don’t, this happens. God, i am so pissed! i want to find that guy and pull his f***in underpants over his big, fat,stupid head. jackass. I LOVE that you slapped him. You are my hero.
CW:
Are you big and scary? LOL. But I definitely agree. A slap was just what the doctor ordered for this guy (a can of mace probably would have not helped the situation this time), but people are jerks, and women need some sort of self-defense training or paraphernalia.
Well done Sheila. Luckily the slap manage to stun the guy into some reasonable semblance of understanding that he was acting like an a**hole.
I am absolutely positive that a**hole boy would never have even come near you had you not been alone, especially with your brother or a date or a male friend with you. Perro que ladra, no muerde.
My friend (“wutzizname” up above) and I talked yesterday and he was joking that the guy would wake up the next morning, and think: “I have met my match. I must marry that woman.” Then Wutzizname said, “It would make a great Maxim article.” Thought that was SO funny.
CW,
I love your comment, friend.
Oh, and not to be cavalier about this, but I have found – at least with these Hoboken a-holes, that EMBARRASSING them is one of the worst things you can do – it shuts them right up. It might not work in a biker bar, where embarrassing someone would be like pouring gasoline on a fire, but with these well-bred little white boys, they can’t believe they just acted so boorishly, and they completely crumble.
At least that was what I saw happen on the guy’s face after I whacked him.
Oh, and yeah – I had great sympathy for the one guy who remembered his manners, and defended me. He was so drunk he could barely stand up, but he stuck up for me. I appreciated it. Wasn’t enough, though.
WHAP!
I get the feeling that Karma is going to be slapping that boy for the rest of his life. You handled yourself very well. Nice job.
Well done Sheila- THIS is why I left Hoboken :)
What did the five fingers say to the face?
SLAP!
I think all of my old-movie-watching has finally paid off. It was a hard clean slap – not messy. I’m proud of my technique.
Clearly you must’ve done something to egg him on. What the hell were you wearing anyway.
I was naked. Did I forget to mention that?
Next time, turn your hip with the swing. It adds more power. Also, plant your feet. Aim through the target. You’d have put him on his back.
Geez, Sheil…good for you…remember being in Lincoln park and the the 1992 version of that guy yelled something unprintable! They are the dark brothers of the “uninhibited” girls…i hate them and feel shame for my sex. But on a less serious note…remember when you punched the Sliv for rubbing his lips on your neck like an inexperienced snail!!??? You hauled off and whacked him…on stage!!…and he may have even deserved it more than Hoboken guy! Not really…but let all be warned…”Don’t F$#% with our Sheila!!!”
Mitchell, I am shaking with laughter. bwahahaha
When I come to the Windy City next month, you have to do the imitation of me punching poor Sliv, on stage. I hated that scene so much. Judith did that to me ON PURPOSE.
HAHAHAHA
I don’t remember the Lincoln Park boys. Lincoln Park has much similarity to Hoboken, in terms of demographic. Obnoxious overly drunk post-college boys.
I remember strolling through Lincoln Park with P.M. one night, and we passed a large raving group of drunk guys, and there was ONE sloppy drunk girl hanging out with them —
He and I slowly passed the group by. Not saying a word. Then I whispered, “I can smell the acquaintance rape in the air, can’t you?”
Haa..the boy in L.P…referred to you as a “redheaded %#**$-bitch”…he was charming!! And not entirely accurate!!!
i wrote that…Alex and I are cyber-co-dependent!
HAHAHAHAHA
I will soooooooo act out the Sliv!! With relish!!!
I know I didn’t do anything to deserve that abuse from that guy.
Was that the night you brought the frying pan into the bar?
Oh sweet s-balls of doom!!!..why why why did i have that frying pan????!!! HHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
You did nothing to get taht abuse we were simply walking down Belden or something towards Clark (albeit with a frying pan)..and he needed tp assert some hostile male energy at you? us?
Because Michelle had given it to you – and you must have joined me at the bar directly from work as opposed to going home.
I remember us leaving that bar and the bouncer said to you, kind of laughing, “Good to see you’ve still got that frying pan thing going on…”
heh heh heh
That is so ridiculous! But sort of a perfect picture of our lives together in Chi-town. And we saw P. M. at some random bar that we didnt usually go to..right?
Forgive me that I remember.
Otis’.
You hid the frying pan under the pool table.
I AM LAUGHING OUT LOUD.
Good going, Sweetie.
You’re lucky I wasn’t one of the girlfriends that was with you that night, Sister. Personally, I think you should have aimed much, much lower. That never fails.
What Did the Five Fingers Say to the Face?
Slap! is what they said, when Sheila confronted some drunken Hoboken frat idiots over the weekend. Way to go her. As Michael Wilbon is fond of saying, every so often youve gotta slap somebody….
I have to agree with Alex: if a woman was to kick or knee a man, and aim south, so to speak, the man would experience utter humiliation and extreme, seemingly-unending pain. Especially if the woman was wearing heels.
You do not mess with a face-slappin’ woman.
But now has a monster been created? You
enjoyed the power so much that now other
faces will probably be slapped. It is
humiliating for a man to have a woman slap him
like a little boy but there is nothing he
can do about it. You punished him like his
mother would. Stepped on him infront of his friends but he deserved it
tony:
// You punished him like his
mother would. //
Yup. If men persist in acting like bullies then they deserve what they get.