A few years or more ago I was at a martial arts tournament. I was part of a team demonstration. We did it for fun and to give the girls of our class a little inspiration to test themselves. And have fun.
It was called The Arnold Schwarzenegger Classic, or Expo, or Fitness Expo. Around these parts it’s just called “The Arnold”. The Arnold has a huge following. It’s a massive collection of activities and expos for all things physical. Oh how I loved to go watch the body builders strutting around. I loved to see the kids gymnastics. I loved to see all of the product companies hawking their stuff and giving out freebies. I loved to see all of the people of all different ages and abilities testing themselves against others and their martial arts abilities. I loved Ahnold.
I loved. Loved-past tense.
I don’t mind that it is a huge money maker for Arnold and all the others making money off of it. That’s fine. Nothing wrong with making money. While they’re making money it’s a great forum for encouragement, personal challenges, school challenges, team challenges. It’s a great way to see a lot of activity. A lot of people. Check out a lot of
I wasn’t really in this team demonstration to showcase any of my talents. My talents in TKD are mostly internal (which is my very positive way of saying I am not physically gifted in TKD but sure did commit to doing the best I could with what I have).
I was there to be part of the team and to help the girls show case their abilities. Translation: I was there to get beat up. So in general I was just there to have fun. Part of the fun was being there at the designated time: 10:00 a.m. As a team the demos were supposed to start before noon. The fun lasted all day long while we waited to start at 11:00 p.m. Fun, fun times.
I had plenty of time to practice this part. The part where I lay down and get stomped on by my daughter.
If you’ve never been to “The Arnold” there are a few things, rules, you should know.
One: nothing ever happens on time.
Two: the crowds are incredibly huge and there is no place for all our bodies to go without becoming extremely intimate with the crowd around you. I do believe, in some cultures, I am married to some of the people I was forced up next to.
Three: at “The Arnold” Arnold is considered a god. This is probably an understatement.
Four: when Arnold comes through the floor you are on that part of the building is shut down.
Five: if you are on the red carpet, the actual red carpet, get off of it. It is the path the god walks upon.
I did not know of most of these rules. They don’t post them. You’re just suppose to know them. I, did not.
During our 13 hour wait for our turn to perform we had the exhilarating experience of Arnold coming through the building. You could feel the tension, the excitement and the fawning. I happen to be standing on the red carpet you are suppose to remove yourself from. I had people twittering (back when twittering did not mean tweeting) that I had better get off of the carpet. So I obliged and stepped back. I could not even see Arnold. Of course all of this was long before Arnold entered. But not soon enough here comes a large group of people heading our way. Lots of tall guys. Which one was he? I mean, the man is like seven foot tall, why couldn’t I see him? Because the six foot tall men surrounding him were taller than he. Though he seems a giant in everything he does he is not very tall.
As his group approached I am standing, appropriately, off of the red carpet. In my bright orange shirt and black pants. Smiling at the excitement and fun of the crowd. Because it is fun. And everyone was in a good mood. Fun. We were there for fun.
Apparently one of his body guards did not think I was there for fun.
He must have thought I was there to kill Arnold.
I was looking to my right as Arnold was approaching from my left. People around me were all talking, saying Arnold movie lines. Talking about the guys walking with him. It was exciting. When suddenly one of his men slammed his presence in to my space and squatted in front of me pounded his hands on to my hands in my pockets and screamed “hands out of your pockets“. I was so startled I did as he demanded. Humiliated. Shocked. When he saw that I didn’t have a gun ready to blast Arnold with he moved on.
Then. I. Got. Pissed.
First at me for only being great at TKD internally. What the hell?! Why didn’t I knee that SOB in the jaw when he squatted in front of me? I don’t give a fig who he thinks he is. That man had no right to touch me, let alone forcefully. I have since then played that scene out numerous times in my head. I wish I had jacked him in the jaw. Yeah yeah yeah. The rest of them would have piled on me and Arnold would have been rushed out of there in a hurry and I would have had the crap beat out of me. But I’d of been a whole lot happier with myself in retrospect.
But at least I would be writing a different blog right now. And it would sound more like bragging.
Now, it is just about a grudge.
Not only did I get molested by one of Arnold’s men. The expo was run so poorly that we, no exaggeration, did not get to perform until 11 p.m. when it was suppose to start at 10 a.m.
See all the people who stuck around to watch:
We did have fun.
I did get the crap beat out of me just for fun.
And I was molested by Arnold’s staff.