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The black guy was in a bad mood.
He kept sounding his horn as he drove through the crowded main street of Lamai Beach on the resort island of Koh Samui, Thailand. He kept shouting four letter words every time someone got in his way.
As he reached his destination, the accident happened. The black guy’s jeep bumped into a white guy’s motorbike.
The white guy lost his balance but didn’t fall. It was a very minor accident, just a light thud.
No one was injured, nothing was damaged. Except emotions. . .
"Fuck you!" the black guy shouted.
"Fuck you!" the white guy shouted back.Using the exact same words - well, what else have they got to say? - they continued shouting at each other for the next few minutes.
Then the black guy decided to stop. He got out of his jeep and went into the store to buy what he wanted to buy, ignoring the white guy.
The white guy was furious. Understandably so. He had been bumped into, cursed with foul language and now, ignored! To be ignored is to have your very existence denied. What else could be more hurtful to the ego?
Unable to control his rage, the white guy followed. Just as the black guy was paying for his purchase, the white guy reached him from behind and whacked him. Hard.
There were some Thais in the store. Almost immediately, four of them pounced on the white guy and started whacking him. Others quickly joined in. Within a minute or two, there must have been at least 12 people fighting inside the 7-Eleven.
I wanted to run. Not only was I so close to the action, I was, in a sense, associated with it. I was watching it all from the front seat of the black guy’s jeep.
The day before, I had made acquaintence with the black guy on the ferry to Koh Samui. I met him again that night (while watching women’s Thai boxing) and decided to go along with him to the 7-Eleven store, to continue our chat.
So I was the black guy’s "friend". In fights, friends risk getting beaten up as well, sometimes even killed.
Should I escape? Where would I go? Can I run fast enough if I have to?
In the end I was happy I didn’t. Because before I could make up my mind about escaping, I witnessed something truly remarkable.
Somehow, the black guy managed to break free from the fighting. He made his way towards the white guy and broke him free from the Thais. He hugged the white guy and shook his hand. Then he went around and hugged, and shook the hands of, the Thais who were beating the white guy on his behalf.
In less than five minutes - perhaps a while longer, but everything happened so fast - it was all over. War, then peace.
I was so overwhelmed by the whole episode that I could not recall what happened after. It must have been uneventful. I vaguely remembered that, when the black guy got back to the jeep, I told him he was great and that what he did was brilliant.
That was about it. We continued with the rest of the evening as if nothing significant had happened.
I don’t recall us talking about how or why the fight started, nor about who was right and who was wrong. That was not important. It was over.
As we drove along the crowded main street of Lamai Beach back to the women’s boxing show, I did not recall the black guy ever again sounding his horn, or shouting any four letter words. Even though the street was just as crowded. Even though people continued to get in his way.
The black guy was no longer in a bad mood.