Boxing Mexicans

26 Jun

Last night was, ah, how should I say it – an adventure.  I boxed Mexicans in a parking deck at 2am.  You might be thinking, “what kind of drunk decisions were you making?” Unfortunately, that question would assume incorrectly as the decisions were embarrassingly sober ones.  I started out the night in a pretty hum-drum fashion.  Went and hung out with a couple friends for a couple hours doing next to nothing.  Then one of the guys’ brothers calls and says he is going with some Mexicans from work to box.  Only the brother and I ended up going, no one else seemed overly excited about the proposition. I was bored.  What do you want from me?

We arrived at the apartment and man, that place was shady.  But they were friendly and were just sitting around playing a boxing game on the x-box.  (They were really into boxing, apparently)  After awhile we went outside and people began boxing.  I was generally unimpressed by the athleticism and wasn’t too worried about any particular Mexican, except one named George.  Naturally, through a string of unfortunate events he’s the first one I end up fighting.  Now, we weren’t fighting full on round after round until someone gets knocked out.  It was more like a handful of minutes unless it was boring then everyone would just boo and the two guys boxing would stop.  I can at least say it was an experience.  I learned that getting punched in the head, with boxing gloves, really isn’t so bad.  I also gained a new respect for the endurance level of boxers because however long I fought, it couldn’t of been more than 3 minutes, was exhausting.

This is what happens when I don’t have anyone who wants to talk about interesting things.  The conversation was all music, feigned interest in soccer because of the world cup or some base form of gossip.  I really refrained from putting out any opinions because I felt pretty confident they would all hate me and they would have no desire to actually talk about their opinions.

One fellow, upon hearing I was studying political philosophy was extremely interested in me because he was a “political-science guy.”  He was wearing one of those Obama t-shirts and around his neck was a beaded necklace with a cut-out of Africa.  He talked about how he loved the philosophy classes, and generally loved philosophy.  His crowning intellectual achievement, what he thought would really impress me, was that he was raised Christian but was able to question those old backward religious beliefs and no longer believed in God.  He quickly added that while his pastor was probably a ‘good person’ it was wrong of him to try and spread religion because it was harmful.  Somebody read their Dawkins. I held my tongue because speaking would’ve been useless but needless to say, I was excited to leave.

On a brighter note, one of my classmates this summer, who attends UNT (a school near mine) for his doctoral and is quite Catholic, recently let on that he loved Allan Bloom.  Unfortunately, he doesn’t drink beer.  I’ll have to change this about him.

Anyway, I hope your weekend is treating you well.

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