fight night

chiang mai, thailand

it's somewhat easy to forget that things are a bit different over here. there are the temples and a different alphabet, but after a while the signage and aesthetics blend into the background. if laos served consistent reminders that i was not in kansas anymore, thailand has been far more subtle. roads are paved and often have more than one lane going in the same direction(!). wifi is ubiquitous and ronald mcdonald is frequently winking in collusion at the starbucks mermaid. again with the seven-elevens.

last night was unmistakeably a step back into the land of yore. if not culturally, then at least with regard to western ethical notions of what should and should not be classified as entertainment. i, along with some few hundred people, paid about twenty dollars to watch shirtless thai adolescents punch and kick each other for sport. and it made all the difference.

we arrived too late to place a proper wager on the girls' fight. by my guess, we entered while they were in the second or third round, as evidenced by the accumulated sweat and slightly swollen eyes. the fight came to a decision and i was left with deep-seeded concerns about the corruption of the thai state. was i questioning how any country would deem it legal for young girls to harm themselves for exhibition while profiteers sold tickets and beer? that too, but mostly how any judge could have given the decision to the girl in the blue corner. she done got beat, and everyone saw it.

the fighting took a more straightforward course for the next couple bouts. the two of us alternated choosing fighters and shadowboxed in our seats alongside them. the boys wore traditional head wear resembling stringless badminton rackets and gave some sort of buddhist devotion to each corner before the bout. the bell would ring and the three-piece band played cobra charming music behind us. the boys squared off and tried to make their fathers proud. us too. we were glad that nobody got hurt and savored the victories when they came. i'll forever cherish that moment when geng chayyaigym's knee went up and pataek sitkruood went down and i found myself the new owner of a tall chang beer. these are moments in life.

there was a moment of dubious moral levity during the king-of-the-hill sequence. six boys were paraded into the ring, blindfolded, and the farang in the audience questioned if we were really about to see what we were about to see. we were, but at least kicking was not allowed. the kids blindly felt their way around the ring until making contact with someone else and then wailed away. on more than one occasion, the referee was dodging a barrage of attacks. the five minutes allowed the combatants to endear themselves to us. we felt like we truly knew them. there was tornado kid, spinning around in 720s with the hopes of delivering the lethal blow to someone. mostly, he fell into the opposite corner and one or two others would trip over his body. windmill kid was vicious. he softly felt around until finding someone, then reached back like he was pitching a softball and coming down hard on their back. i probably would have fallen just like all the others did; if that kid eats less than two dozen egg rolls a day, count me in the surprised column.

the night closed with a three-round exhibition between a guy from california and a local fighter past his prime. the american held himself well in both fight and sportsmanship, even if he fell victim to a biased decision. he was grateful for the call-and-response i started during the fight from team america and really wished he could have stayed to talk a bit longer. unfortunately, he was gassed and regretting the beer he had before the fight. we hung around for a photo shoot on the canvas and the opportunity for a game of pool. the sounds gone and the lights turning off in the complex, we left and stepped back into the more recognizable world, grateful for the detour.