Punch (the) Drunk

Last week I happened to be driving on Belleville avenue in New Bedford. As I passed by the bottom of Beetle street I glanced over at R&B Liquors on the corner. I noticed the entryway window was cracked.

I worked there for a time, although I didn't want to. You see I had been laid off from Poyant's Signs and my unemployment benefits were about to run out. I let this fact slip to my landlord. He mentioned that he and his father had just bought a liquor store and asked if I wanted to work there. It's hard for me to say no to a job when my landlord knows I will soon have no income. So I became part of the R&B Liquors workforce.

At that time I was about 3 years into a period of sobriety. If it had been a few years earlier I would have had my dream job.

The neighborhood there is one of the toughest in the city. I witnessed a drive by shooting, during a snow storm of about 8" deep. There was a cast of customers that would have made a good comic strip. The drunks, hookers, gangbangers and homeless people made each day unique.

One drunk, named Billy Vodka was found frozen to death on the steps of a church a block away. It took two weeks for the police to find a living relative. Then there was Stinky Rat Piss, named for an obvious reason. He finally got a small room and started to bathe. The twin prostitutes Bonnie and her sister (I forgot the sisters name) were actually very nice people. Then there was Loose Bruce, he supposedly got the first part of his name because he would have seizures and just before they would occur he would get "loose," like he was about to faint. He never bothered anyone though.

One of the owners friends was named Mario. A twenty something whose parents were from Portugal. Mario had webbed feet, and would get called 'Aflac.'

At the store there were backroom deals going on nightly. Cocaine in the back room, crack in the cooler and weed at the counter. Football gaming tickets were delivered by one of New Bedford's boys in blue. I only worked days. Eventually the state police stopped in and gave a verbal warning to those involved.

I would often see customers crack open a pint of vodka (Kimnoff Vodka, I called it Kill Me Off) and drop it in the barrel near the door. Some guys actually chugged a whole pint in seconds.

One memorable slow morning a very drunk customer came in and just asked to use the bathroom. Since drunks tend to either miss the toilet or throw up I refused his request. He asked, "What the hell am supposed to do?"

"Go behind the factory I," told him. He said he would pee around the back of the building. As long as he was leaving I was happy. Until I noticed him standing in the entry, facing the wall looking down. I couldn't believe someone would actually do that!

I ran (well, moved as fast as I could) to the door and opened it. Before I could think I used my open hand to smack him on the side of the head. I didn't realise how hard I hit him until his head hit the glass entry wall. He was so drunk and surprised he fell over backward and rolled in a backward somersault all the way across the side walk and ended sitting upright on his butt with his back resting against his wife's Plymouth Volare front tire.

I felt a sliver of guilt about what I had done, but it was a small sliver. At the same time the guy was doing his reverse somersault a regular customer had just gotten out of his van parked across the street.

The drunk sat on the sidewalk trying to get up but had to pull himself up using the fender of the car for support. And of course he started spouting off.

"Hit me again," he said. "Go ahead hit me again!" I was unsure weather to whack him once more for good measure, but I remembered the old saying, "Never hit a man when he's drunk."

So I kept walking towards him to prevent him from getting a running lunge at me. Once more he taunted, "Hit me again!" I said, "Buddy I don't think you get the idea of a fight. I already hit you once, now it's your turn to hit me." Just at that moment the guy's wife got out of the car and pleaded,"Don't hit him." It sounded like she felt she had enough to do with him in his state of stupor and wasn''t interested in blood or black eyes.

So she poured him back into the car and drove off. The customer from across the street was laughing out loud saying,"All I saw was a guy come rolling out of the doorway and land on his ass, and the look on your face told the whole story." We had a laugh about it and he left with his purchase. It was a few minutes later that I noticed that the glass in the entry was cracked. Then I realised that I must have whacked him pretty good.

Whenever I drive by and see that still broken glass I can't help smiling about punching the drunk.