Fact 3/15

"The guy behind you. I dare you to arm wrestle him."

He was a middle aged Polish businessman, wearing a tie, sporting a big thick Polish moustache, smoking tiny, slim cigarettes and drinking tiny glasses of beer. Two others in nice suits were also sitting at the table, obviously having some kind of informal business meeting with him.
My price for doing it, a kebab for my poor unemployed ass, and since I didn't have my camera, someone had to draw a live sketch of the match to remember it by.

I was sure that victory and the kebab were mine if I could only convince him to do it. I doubted it though, because these people seemed like they were in the midst of some serious business and arm wrestling some drunk goof probably didn't fit into the atmosphere of their evening. I approached and told them that I had a bet going that if I could beat someone at their table in an arm wrestle and I'd get a free beer. The two guys in suits instantly told me to go away and find someone else, but before I was able to walk away, the Moustache quietly raised his hand and sushed them. The alpha-stache wanted to speak.

His simple question,"Why us?"

What I didn't say: "Because you have a big, fat gay moustache, you're smoking cigarettes marketed for chubby 13 year old girls, you're wearing a dressshirt and tie, and I'm pretty sure you're drinking beer out a teacup."

What I did say: "Because you guys look like you're up to it."

His next question, "And what do I get if I win."

I fought my chuckle into submission and told him he'd get a beer.

He agreed and we sat down. Everyone around stopped what they were doing and began to watch the arm wrestle between the middle aged business man and the guy in a hoodie wearing a toque.

My arm hurt for three days and the doctors say the emotional scars will last a lifetime. Seeing certain kinds of brooms now triggers his memory and causes me to wet myself. He didn't just beat me, he humiliated me. At some point, he was letting me hold him an inch from the table while he lit up another slim cigarette and talked about profits and losses. Then he put the cigarette down, asked if I was ready, and slammed my hand into the table.
Then he did it all over again with my left arm.

Not only did he get a beer from me, but I'm convinced that after he crushed and humilitated me in front of the entire bar and his clients, he probably closed a million dollar deal.

What did I learn? That any man that smokes girl cigarettes proudly in public is a man to be reckoned with. This is a man with nothing to fear and who wants to show it. This was the Polish man named Sue.