The Stick Incident

2001. Summer. That's as specific as I can get.

I was looking forward to a lot of changes that year. We had a space odyssey to look forward to and the rise of the machines. It was a scary and exciting time.

The Stick Incident happened at a park on Bay Area Boulevard. I was still friends with my friends (this would not be the case in 4 months' time) and we were invited to a party by a friend of a friend, or some such. I recall going because my ride to my gig that night was going to the party. I was in the pit for our local playhouse's production of Li'l Abner, as was my best friend at the time. His twin brother (our ride) was in the play. So it all worked out for us.

Reyes, someone I quickly lost track of after high school, was grilling burgers. For some reason, he put meat tenderizer on the burgers which made for great disintegrating meat piles. That memory alone would have made this party stick out in my mind.

A girl named Cameron I liked at the time was also there. As soon as I had arrived, I had spent most of my time talking to her instead of my friends. We separated ourselves from the group.

Brandon was also there. This will be key in a moment.

When Cameron and I rejoined the group to eat, Brandon was fairly irate at me. Now, fairly for Brandon can typically be considered out-of-whack for other folks. When Brandon shops for irateness, he buys it in bulk and doles it out in spades. For this particular instance, he doled it out in stick. During his tirade he had been using a fallen tree branch to gesture emphatically.

To be honest, I don't remember the build-up to it. I don't even recall the last thing he said before it and I tend to be good about this sort of thing. But no. All I remember was the stick he threw at me. He was a good (I suck at judging distances) 5 yards away. The stick spun a few times before it struck me in my gut.

I didn't do anything.

In the eternity it took for the stick to make contact I didn't move. It's been pointed out to me that I can have the reflexes of a sleepy tortoise. I stood there. I just stood there. It hurt but I'd felt God's undistilled vengeance before. The only reaction I gave afterward was asking, "Why'd you throw a stick!? Who throws a stick!?"

The other party goers, including my future wife, her best friend, The Wicked Witch of the Southeast, and my favorite teacher from high school all shouted a disapproving, "Brandon!"

He gave a confused, "What? Why didn't you move?"

That was 7 and a half years ago. I finally have an answer: Who the Hell throws a stick?