Please, Take a Bow

Please, Take a Bow

I notice that the Statehouse Convention Center in Little Rock, Arkansas, is hosting the world Tai Kwan Do championships and about a billion penguins have shown up to spar in front of others, primarily to be seen kicking someone they have just met in the face. I take in the view, some forty bouts ongoing and about thirty-seven spectators surrounding each one of them, mashed together like metal shards on a magnet. 

On the outer fringe of the spectators, I see people, those in gis and not, greeting each other with handshakes and hugs, but all of those gestures preceded by a bow. Not just any bow either; it’s that respectful snap at the waist with a very straight back, hands at sides, obeisance. 

Suddenly, I realize I’m the victim of a very powerful thirst. I would reckon it’s from watching all the exertion of others. They are huffing and puffing, working up a sweat while throwing opponents on the mat. So, of course, I need a drink.

There are several people in line ahead of me when I take my place at the kiosk, and I catch myself hoping they’ll still be serving root beer when my turn comes. From the line, I observe more bowing and actually rotate in my place to see the entire view.

An old lady, someone’s granny, I reckon, walks into the line, in a position just behind me, but now that my back is to the counter, I am facing my line mate who is behind me. I guess, under the influence of what I’ve just witnessed, I bow impulsively but without practice, I don’t know how to do it right, and accidentally shove my butt into the butt of the person behind me who is actually in front of me in the line. I turn, and for the first time, I notice she’s a nice-looking lady about my age. Long, brown, hair framing a perfect face. She smiles, as if to say, “no worries” over my having just butt-butted her. I’m nervous. My heart rate is up. So, impulsively, I bow.

And now I can feel granny’s ample belly against my buns. I sink into it; her waist is a couch pillow. Of course, I straighten quickly and spin around. I’m so embarrassed now. When my eyes catch granny’s, the only thing I can think to do now is bow once more, apologetically.

But she’s ready for me this time and as I bend at the waist, I can tell she is beginning to, as well.

I realize too late that we are closer in proximity for this act of mutual appreciation to be done correctly, and I head-butt granny full force. She goes down like a cow in a slaughterhouse, while I remain bent over her unconscious and now grotesquely flopped body.

Then the fries hit the floor. I suddenly realize that I’ve butt-butted the hot chick in front of me again, and she, in turn, has stumbled into the latest customer to be served. Apparently, he ordered fries, and may have asked for extra ketchup.

A few of the fries have fallen on someone’s granny, who now lies as though sleeping on the concrete floor between me and a customer who took his place behind her. A single fry which must have taken one for the team when the ketchup was applied is now on granny’s face – between her glasses and her lazily half-closed eyelid. More to save her from embarrassment than anything else, I pluck it from it’s landing place, then realize how wasteful it would be to just fling it and pop it in my mouth thinking I ought to dig that ketchup blob from her ear as well – which really shouldn’t go to waste either.

Just then, a fellow in a blue official-looking coat – these guys are everywhere – runs up and shouts the words, “what happened,” but he’s really excited and has a bit of an accent and it enters my ears as “Wha-happa! Wha-happa!” and as some more of the fry slinks down my throat I look at him and think to myself, you’re not from around here, are you….

He leaps into the air yelling, “Mou to mou! Mou to mou!” just as the customer, who had ordered the fries and ketchup, a bit of which are now a part of my afternoon snack, suddenly utters, “Oh shit.” That’s how fast all of this has happened.

In the same moment in which I think of how much I’d like to give the hot chick in front of me some mouth-to-mouth, I also realize I can’t do the same to the old lady because I’ve still got just a little fry in my mouth and at just that second, the server yells, “Next!” and I respond with, “Root beer!”

By the time I’ve paid, a real crowd has gathered, and Statehouse security is asking if anyone knows what happened. Pointing off into the distance with the root beer hand, my pointer finger extended with authority, I say, “This dude walked by and head-butted her and then threw some fries in her face. See, there’s a little ketchup on her glasses.”

They take off running in the direction I’ve pointed just as Granny begins to rouse. Our eyes connect and I wonder if she remembers when my eyes realize the kind look in hers. For the fourth time in four minutes I bend at the waist, bowing in respect to her Granniness.

She watches, calm and smiling at first, as I come lower and closer to her face. Her eyes widen in proportion to the decreased distance between us. I’m sure she thinks I’m going to whisper something, but as kindness is replaced by horror, I figure she is beginning to think I’m a pervert – that I’ll kiss her, or worse.

With our faces centimeters apart, her mouth opens as if to scream, her eyes as wide as is capable. In one swift move, I close the final distance between us and lick that last bit of ketchup from her glasses and then with root beer in hand, I leave to watch another pair of strangers kick each other in the face.