Heh, thanks. I’d rather look into some more basic street-fighting classes, though. To tell the truth, martial arts scare me a little bit with how much spiritual dedication they demand.
I’ve got a few simple self-defence and outdoor survival lessons from a 3-month class I attended after high school, it was pretty neat. Then, half a year ago, when I got robbed at knifepoint by some homeless drunk, at least I didn’t do anything stupid. He wasn’t all that big and had a really tiny penknife, I had a very thick winter coat and in retrospect I could’ve stunned him with an uppercut—we practiced sudden attacks in the class, as the lesson was basically “A serious fight lasts for one blow”… but with the fear and the adrenaline and the darkness I perceived the knife to be about 20cm long − 3 times larger than it really was—and decided not to resist. He pressed me against a wall, told me to give my phone and dashed.
I went home, called the police, and to my surprise they got him that very night, as they had his picture from a drunken brawl before; he hadn’t even pawned my phone. I was really calm and collected while dealing with the cops and all that (all in all, they sure surpassed my rather low expectations of the Russian police), but later I felt rather sick… a little like being raped, I presume. I got over it quickly, though; I feel a little sorry for that shit-stain and his inhuman life.
(By the way, that bit with the knife sure was funny in retrospect. When the cops showed me the evidence and asked to confirm it, I initially said something like “Well, yeah, the blade had the same shape… but it was at least two times bigger, I swear! Might he have another knife or something?” The detective was kinda amused.)
Heh, thanks. I’d rather look into some more basic street-fighting classes, though. To tell the truth, martial arts scare me a little bit with how much spiritual dedication they demand.
I’ve got a few simple self-defence and outdoor survival lessons from a 3-month class I attended after high school, it was pretty neat. Then, half a year ago, when I got robbed at knifepoint by some homeless drunk, at least I didn’t do anything stupid. He wasn’t all that big and had a really tiny penknife, I had a very thick winter coat and in retrospect I could’ve stunned him with an uppercut—we practiced sudden attacks in the class, as the lesson was basically “A serious fight lasts for one blow”… but with the fear and the adrenaline and the darkness I perceived the knife to be about 20cm long − 3 times larger than it really was—and decided not to resist. He pressed me against a wall, told me to give my phone and dashed.
I went home, called the police, and to my surprise they got him that very night, as they had his picture from a drunken brawl before; he hadn’t even pawned my phone. I was really calm and collected while dealing with the cops and all that (all in all, they sure surpassed my rather low expectations of the Russian police), but later I felt rather sick… a little like being raped, I presume. I got over it quickly, though; I feel a little sorry for that shit-stain and his inhuman life.
(By the way, that bit with the knife sure was funny in retrospect. When the cops showed me the evidence and asked to confirm it, I initially said something like “Well, yeah, the blade had the same shape… but it was at least two times bigger, I swear! Might he have another knife or something?” The detective was kinda amused.)