Self-defense and children
Ξ November 18th, 2008 | → 4 Comments | ∇ Hong Kong, On being me, Other people's stuff, Tours and stuff |
The other day while walking to work in broad daylight via the Sun Hung Kai Centre and China Resources Building, I found myself contemplating my self-defense skills. I wasn’t feeling particularly threatened. The man walking in front of me started holding his hand out to passers-by as if asking for spare change. I don’t think he said anything to them. My first thought was, “that’s a silly way to bum a dollar. Who carries a coin in his hand while walking just in case an oncoming pedestrian has his hand out?” That brought me to the conclusion that this guy must be at least slightly off. And I was carrying a cake.
Meanwhile, I am jamming to Motorpsycho. Jamming.
Then the guy stops, steps to the side of the walkway and turns so he’s facing perpendicular to the lines of people passing by. I pass. I think I hear him make a strange noise but dismiss it as just some old slightly off dude making a strange noise. “That’s Hong Kong,” I say to myself. I say that almost daily. But there’s something to this encounter that brings me to thoughts of self-defense. It was the strange noise, sort of a moan or audible gawk. It was the slightly eery feeling of his eyes following me. It was not knowing whether he stepped back into the flow of pedestrian traffic to follow behind me after I passed. He didn’t put his hand out toward me, and I pretended not to notice.
“What would I do?” I asked myself. First, I’d drop this cake. Wait, I wonder if I could throw the cake up, spin around, and sweep the feet fast enough to spin around and catch the cake as it drops back down. I’d have to toss it up pretty high. And it’s a heavy cake! Anna baked it for MinJung’s party. A delicious cake. I don’t want it to fall to the ground, likely busting the cake transporter and ruining a delicious cake. And there’s the issue of my bag. I love this bag. My sister gave it to me. I’m also carrying two bottles of citron tea that MinJung left at my place. So the bag has some weight to it, too. Then I start thinking about my footwork. By this time, the old slightly off guy has probably asked 20 more people for money and forgot I ever passed, but I’m still thinking about the best way to take him out.
He’d probably tap my shoulder or grab my right arm with his right hand. He asked for money with his left, but that was only because people were passing on that side. Odds are, his right hand is dominant. So if he’s grabbing my right arm, I would spin clockwise, stepping back with my right foot, hopefully creating a little space between us with a push from my right hand. So, I switch the cake to the left hand. Hell, I gotta drop the thing. If I throw it in the air, it’s sure to drop on my head. Dropping from a lower height reduces the risk of a broken carrying case. Yes. After turning around, right foot first, pushing him backward a bit with my elbow or my hand depending on how far away he is. That’s when I sweep the feet. Scrawny guy, he might fall from this. Worst case, he’s a kung fu master and we fight to the death. Best case, it takes him down to one knee and he puts his hands up as if to say, “holy shit, lady. I surrender. Hey, can I have some cake?”
On an entirely different subject, I met the cutest kid last week. My pal Dan Reimold was visiting from Singapore where he acts as local hot shot. We hopped the Star Ferry to Kowloon side and wandered into the HK Cultural Centre while waiting for our junk boat cruise. Here’s Ken:
I love this child. And he loves me. I can still hear his adorable voice, smiling, “Good-bye, Emily…”
New friends Ken and Em pose with Ken's art displayed in the Hong Kong Cultural Centre.
I’m not sure if it was before or after the Ken encounter that Dan and I crashed “someone else’s wedding.”
Dan and Em pose with a wedding party outside the Hong Kong Cultural Centre one lovely November afternoon.
And while I’m at it, I might as well show you where I learned my kung fu.
- Bruce Lee and Em ready for battle at The Peak. Watch out!
