An Impromptu Lesson in Muay Thai Boxing

It's a quiet night in Chiang Mai, a picturesque city in the north of Thailand. Usually home to a bustling nightlife, today is Friday of election weekend and the sale of alcohol is strictly prohibited during the three day compulsory polling. A number of restaurants were surreptitiously serving mixed cocktails in tea cups early in the evening but by eleven the police have visited most of the rule benders and closed them for the night. Not quite ready to cash it in my fellow traveler Mike and I head for a fairly unexciting late night snack of pizza and bottled water and begin the stroll back our guest house along the glassy east moat...
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It's a cold night and as we walk briskly back we approach another group walking just ahead. There are three girls, clearly travelers as well, looking mildly pestered by two young Thai men who appear to have attached themselves to the trio uninvited. As we near I slow my pace. One of the men grabs a girl by the arm. She tolerates it briefly but when he attempts to draw her close she jerks away. Seeing that the advances are clearly unwelcome I offer a friendly hello and then quietly inquire if they would prefer an escort until things are sorted with their unwanted suitors. My offer is graciously accepted, introductions are made and we spend the next couple minutes engaging in the typical "where are you from" and "how long are you traveling" obligatory among meeting backpackers. The three girls are Aussies on a fifteen day tour through Northern Thailand and the two guys are actually two of their trekking guides who just can't seem to take a hint. They told the girls to follow them to a bar that now doesn't seem to exist and they're becoming increasingly physical.

Mike and I stop in front of 7-11 convenience store and two of the girls stop as well. Not noticing that we had paused, the third walks ahead sandwiched by the two Thai guides until her friends call her back, hoping again that the guys will get the message. They do not. One of the guides, in a jean jacket and tank top with a scraggly beard and pony tail, walks back and wedges himself strategically between us and the girls with his back towards me, putting an end to our pleasant conversation as the girls edge nervously away from him. He begins to tell them something that I can't hear and then swiftly wheels around on me planting a punch in in my stomach with all the momentum of his unexpected spin.

I tense my stomach in time and the punch does little to phase me. He's quick but small and his punch lacks power. As he draws back for a second blow aimed at my face I see a gleam of metal in his hand. I dodge to the right and his fist glances off my neck. I feel a scrape but the pain is dull and I know that he has not drawn a knife. As he draws back again I see what looks like keys, maybe a knuckle duster jutting from his fist. I dodge the next swing completely before he launches a jump kick to my chest. I step back and the sole of his shoe grazes my shirt. The girls scream at him as they frantically flag down a tuk-tuk to flee the scene. Apparently seeing that there is little damage he can inflict on me himself he backs away and pulls out his cell phone. He warns me in broken English that he is calling his friends. I take advantage of the opportunity to duck into 7-11 and tell the clerk to call the police and then step back outside to ensure that the girls have gotten away safely.

As I step back onto the curb the other guide is either trying to fight his way on to the tuk-tuk that they have hailed or pull the girls back off but they fend him off and the tuk-tuk speeds off. Seeing the girls flee inspires a new bout of fury in my assailant and he sprints towards me from the street leaping into an aerial kick. I block his kick then another punch and infuriated he lets loose a flailing barrage of punches and kicks. Some make contact with my legs and shoulders but he is out of control and there is no force behind his attack. While his blows are ineffective he clearly does not intend to stop until he has hurt me and I realize that I must do more than simply block his attack.

As I plant my hands on his chest possible scenarios begin to flash through my mind. At fifty pounds heavier I could subdue him, but how close are his friends and will they be carrying weapons? The police are en route, but if they spot me holding him to the ground they may confuse me for the attacker and haul me off instead. No, I have to get him away from me and get inside in the hope that he will not be so stupid as to continue his ridiculous assault in front of the security cameras in 7-11. I shove him back towards the street, graciously stopping just short of oncoming traffic, and turn to reenter the store behind me. Mike, already inside, pushes aside the shopkeeper who is trying to block the door for fear that if I enter the psychotic attacker will follow.

He gets the door open but a moment too late. As I turn to cross the threshold he has regained his balance and runs toward me. With my back to him as I enter the door he winds up and brings his fist crashing down just below my right ear before I make it through the door. For the first time he has made solid contact and through the adrenaline my jaw begins to ache. Meanwhile his companion, who had not contributed to or attempted to stem the irrational behavior of his colleague must have convinced him to flee before the police arrive. The two took off down the road.

Momentarily the two police officers arrive on mopeds. Fortunately the shopkeeper of the neighboring store has witnessed the whole event and quickly gives descriptions of the men to the police who motor off after them. She enters the 7-11 and tells us in fairly clear English that we should wait there until the police return. I wait nervously inside. There are many witnesses, but I am a stranger here to whom they have no allegiance. When the police return the barrier in communication may allow the attacker to sway their opinions. In the end it's the kind face and calm demeanor of the shopkeeper that encourage me to await their return.

The officers, now there are six, return with the two guides and to my surprise it is the guide in the jean jacket who comes to the door and beckons me out of the 7-11. I walk out and the officers stand and observe as he begins to apologize and explain himself. However the apology turns quickly into a sort of bizarre lecture on etiquette. I can scarcely believe my ears as he instructs me that these were his women and I should not have spoken to them without first introducing myself to him. I stop him and mid-sentence with a lucid counter argument of unprintable expletives. While I managed to keep my cool during his physical onslaught I was not about to endure the feeble pedantry of a misogynistic psychopath. Surprisingly the foul toung-lashing seemed to inspire in him the desire to apologize again and he mumbles, "I sorry, sometime I do bad, I sorry."

Suddenly he has become a sniveling mess. The six police officers stand by smirking as he attempts several times to shake my hand and mutters apologies. Soon I realize why, when the other guide explains to me that the city police are merely waiting for me to decide if I would like to bring him to the tourist police to file a complaint. This would surely cause him to lose his job and put an end to his carreer in the tourism industry. But looking at this groveling little guy all I can think is that I want him to stop the pathetic stream of apologies and I inform him in no uncertain terms that he should just leave. The police take his info and send him off down the street.

I thank the shopkeeper and the police officers for their assistance, one of whom says enthusiasticly, "you Thai kick box!" seeming to imply that he thinks I have a future in Thai boxing and then Mike and I hop on the back of two police bikes and ride back to our guest house along the once-again serene Chiang Mai streets.