So I had just started school in South Dakota. The first few weeks there I was the very definition of a shut in. I didn't know anyone in the state and only took a few classes that semester so my exposure to people there was limited. My assigned roommate decided to drop out before I shown up so even the one person I would have been forced to interact with was gone so I mostly kept to myself. Eventually the dorm's forced a roommate upon me because I had a corner room which was the biggest room on the floor and they felt that it wasn't fair to the people cramped together that I should have a big ass room to myself. So they assigned me some dude from the baseball team who was from Canada. He was friendly enough though I was very perplexed at the site of a Canadian wigger. I thought that was just an American phenomenon but nope, even white boys from the great white north like to pretend they are black. He was from Winnipeg though so maybe that city was "hood" enough to justify his behavior....but I really doubt the city's up in Canada are anything like our city's.
Walking cliche beside the kid was pretty cool and that combined with the fact he was on the baseball team meant he provided me with a social opening for me to finally integrate myself into the Sodak social scene. So after he moved in that weekend there was a keggar he invited me to tag along with. Sodak partys are somewhat different then what I'm used to. They basically do all the things me and my friends back in Minnesota make fun of. Guys in cowboy hats group together and talk about their trucks non-stop. The girls are divided up between the tomboyish farm girls and the girls that doll themselves up to the point that I have to think they are in a stage of massive denial of their surroundings. I quickly found that I really have nothing to say to any of these people. So I stuck to the only thing I knew that had universal appeal that everyone no matter what social background your fun loves; booze and weed. It's probably not healthy for me to use alcohol as a social crutch, but really it's the only thing that keeps me from being stuck in my head all night.They call it liquid courage for a reason right?
So after downing a few beers quickly and starting my own circle with a bunch of guys decked out in flannel in a non-ironic fashion I finally felt comfortable amongst these country folk. The downside to my comfort is that by nature I'm kind of a mouthy asshole. I think the only reason I haven't gotten my ass beat yet in my life is because either by sheer luck or unconsciously I tend to surround myself with friends who are very large and intimidating. But I was out here on my own and I haven't earned anyways respect to have my back. So I was making my rounds around the house, walk to the basement, get bored, move the living room upstairs, get bored, go out to the garage. Found some girl, talked to her for a bit, she mentioned she had a boyfriend. I said something along the lines of "and you think I care?" she mentioned he is a very large man. Me in my cocky state think I'm untouchable and say something like "whatever I could take him." Somehow this conversation didn't get me in any trouble at all. Eventually I found the girl to be boring and found a bunch of the baseball guys standing around so i went over there.
This one obviously drunk dude who has a good 6 inches on me looks at me up and down. At this point I should probably describe what I was wearing. To put it simply I don't have any sense of fashion at all. All of high school I wore just black. I wasn't a goth kid or anything like that (though plenty of people thought I was a satanist, but that probably had more to do with me constantly saying how much I hated everyone and my sociology project that I did about Satanism).But no, I just wore black because black goes with everything and it made getting dressed in 2 minutes a lot easier if I didn't have to think about what I was wearing and just threw on whatever smelled clean. Since then my wardrobe has expanded somewhat and I have some blue jeans and hoody's in different colors. My grandpa got me a denim jacket for christmas that had fleece on the inside. Not normally my thing but I dress for practicality and in a South Dakota winter that jacket seemed very practical. So I was wearing my denim jacket with my blue jeans, which apparently is something a person shouldn't do. So back to the large man looking me down, he finally says "Who the fuck wears a denim jacket with blue jeans?"
This is the downfall of alcohol. Rational me would have seen the man is obviously drunk beyond repair and given his size I should have thought of a neutral response that wouldn't have incurred any hostility towards me. Maybe I should have shown him something shiny to distract him while I retreated back inside the house. These are all good ideas, and much better than what I actually did. I looked the guy up and down matching his actions trying to show him that I could do the same thing to him. I noticed he was wearing a t-shirt for the college. We were pretty much like 2 blocks away from the school. So after looking him up and down I say to him "Well who the fuck wears a school shirt when you live right on campus? Kinda redundant don't ya think?"
Apparently this was the wrong thing to say.
For a person at his level of intoxication he moved surprisingly fast. Before I could even react he charged at me grabbed me by the collar, lifted me up and then rammed me up against the wall. Logic would dictate that I should be terrified by this, but fortunately for myself I am beyond logic at this point and have entered insanity.
"THIS IS MY FUCKING HOUSE AND YOU COME IN HERE DISSIN ON MY SHIRT?!? I CAN WEAR WHATEVER THE FUCK I WANT, YOU HEAR ME!?"
As he is yelling this at me I am laughing my ass off. Not just a chuckle mind you, or a mischievous chortle. I am howling. The whole situation was ridiculous. I figured one day my mouth was going to get me into trouble. I didn't count on the fact that it was going to happen while in South Dakota, and for the gayest reason ever....because he didn't like my outfit and by extension me making fun of his choice in t-shirts. Maybe if the guy was a little more sober me laughing might have disarmed the situation a little bit. When someone is taking something very seriously and the other person treats it like a joke, more often then not the serious person will lose interest, it's like trying to play tag with a person who doesn't know your playing and is just standing still.
But despite my valiant effort of laughing, this man was not detererd. He persisted on yelling the same things over again about how it was his house and that his choice in fashion was perfectly adequate. I guess he decided that these words weren't doing enough to me and he dropped me and I see his right arm pull back. I don't know how other people react to imminent danger but whenever I'm in a situation that potentially is about to go badly (like losing control of a car on ice) I tend to get all out of body and observe the situation. So I see his arm go back and I just take the moment to just watch the whole situation unfold and review it.
"yup...I'm about to get hit in the face because I wore this jacket"
Fortunately in real life this whole situation happened a lot faster then it takes to describe it and right about here is when someone in the garage full of people came to my rescue and pulled the guy off of me. They pull him back inside and I get the typical "are you ok?" questions and concerned looks. I'm still laughing and have a huge smile on my face. I ask where's the beer's at, the other guy who lives there tells me I can have all the beer I want as a way to make amends. Apparently that dude has a history of going ape while drunk. He tells me this one time he he was sitting on the couch eating chips and that same drunk guy walked in and saw him and said
"Are you eating chips?!"
He then proceeded to jump on him and try and fight according to the story. I laughed. Rest of the night was uneventful. Next day while I was eating breakfast in the student center the drunk guy found me and apologized. I said it was fine. Really I was ok with it, I have flown into uncontrollable rage whilst wasted before, it's not anything personal. He didn't really seem to want me to accept the apology so easily but eventually he buggered off. Maybe I should have made him give me money or something since he seemed so concerned with making it up to me. But life went on, though I didn't go to any more party's at that house.
And since then I have NEVER worn my denim jacket with blue jeans at the same time.