On being the stranger in a strange land

Restaurant worker punches female diner in the face

More below.

"A restaurant worker punched a female customer three times in the face during a brutal assault caught on camera.

The woman is seen being held back by three employees at the taco eatery in Queretaro, Mexico, after launching a verbal tirade.

One of the men pushed her to the ground, but when she got back up and confronted a kitchen worker who then hit her. 

Customers broke up the fight, but this led to one of the restaurant workers threatening to use a machete, according to Jose Abel Gonzalez, who posted the video online."

I lived in Mexico late 1981 through summer 1982. I was young, and traveling alone. I had a great time. But I seldom really understood what was happening around me when things went sideways. Speaking of machetes . . . 

I was invited by a well connected, prosperous man in Comalcalco to come over, go through his business, and have a drink, he was the local distributor for El Presidente brandy. This was pretty common, and was all about showing off his prosperity. It was lost on me, I really couldn't care less, but I realized it was important for them, and it was expected of me, and I was willing to play my role. So, I went. 

There were about 2 - or 3 other men with him when I arrived, and they showed me around his warehouse, and business, and then we opened a bottle of El Presidente, and had a few brandies. I was about ready to thank him, and head home when he decided we needed to go to the local "nightclub." I know the word he used, but that seems like the gist of his statement. 

I decided when I was living in Mexico to do anything that seemed reasonable when asked, and so I said yes. We loaded into his big old American car, and roared off to the "nightclub." Which looked like a bunker. It was concrete block with about 6 steel roll up doors, and no windows. The doors were about 2/3 of the way up it was pretty dark inside, the music loud, it was hot, and it was pretty crowded . . . with men, no women at all at the tables. 

The women were all lined up against the walls, lighted by black light. 

I was pretty clueless as to what was going on, but it didn't seem like any "nightclub" I'd ever heard about. 

We took a table, I believe the people already there were cleared out for us, which seemed odd to me. And they brought a bottle of El Presidente. I thought maybe my host also owned the "nightclub." Or was a patron guest.


It was late, I was tired, the music loud, and the people were yelling at each other to talk over the music.


After a while, one of the women came over and talked to me. She was joined by another. I understood not one word of the conversation. But I knew they were asking me a question. After a while I just said. "No." They weren't exactly mad, but surprised. But the big surprise was the guy at the next table over who had been watching me intently. He blew up, immediately. He pushed me a bit, dressed me down, then stormed off. He was very drunk. I was even more confused.


That changed the entire demeanor of my guest, he became very concerned looking, and wanted to leave, so I got up to leave. Just as the intent drunk returned, with machete. He stood about 8' away from me yelling, and pointing the machete at the table, at my host, at me, at the two women, all the while jabbering. I understood even less. My host was cowering, his other guests had retreated to the far side of the table. 


The drunk took a step towards me, poked the machete at my chest a few times, then slapped the blade flat on the table. Everyone in the room was watching us. The music blared. 


I'd had enough, I was tired, I was 2X his size, and I was just sufficiently lubricated by El Presidente to reach the sweet spot for "Fuck-it." As the drunk turned to face me again, I stepped in grabbed his machete wrist, and spun it counterclockwise hard. He arched back pulled his arm towards his body, which I followed, and once it was fully coiled, I pushed it in then jerked it out - hard. Something popped, and the machete fell on the table. So, I picked it up. 


Then, pandemonium. The drunk was crying, holding his arm, I was taller than just about everyone in the room by a good head, and they were trying to get away from me at a high rate of speed. Even my host and his coterie looked like they just crapped themselves. 


I, clueless, looked to my host and said vamanos, he ran out to the car, the other two, followed at distance. I realized I had the machete after reaching the car, so I handed it to my host who looked very relieved. Then we left.


Next day, I asked Juan, the young boy in the family I was living with what the hell had happened. A few days later he told me what my host told him. It was a whorehouse, the women were offering me a freebee, I said no, that pissed off the drunk, because he never got offered freebees, he threatened me, my host, the women, pretty much everyone. He went out to  his car and got a machete. Then I took the machete away after hurting him badly in what looked like an adult taking a rattle from a child. Now that I had the machete they all realized if I started hacking up people no one would be able to stop me. 


Because I left without hacking up a bunch of bodies, my stock value in Comalcalco soared. It was high to begin with. 


Talk about a stranger in a strange land!