by Marinka on June 14, 2010

This is not the post that I intended to write today. But when Fate steps in and hands you the badge of heroism, it’s pointless to run away.  And not only because running in this humidity is just plain crazy.

I’ll start from the beginning. I was born at a young age– okay, okay, fast-forward forty-some years to Sunday morning when I headed out for an early cup of coffee.  As I approached my local Starbucks, I saw a few young(ish) men(ish) standing outside.  Sort of trash talking, laughing, whatever.  Kids today!  Clearly their parents did not allow them to pursue their dreams of sailing around the world by themselves at 16 and now that ship had sailed and here they were, at 7 am on Sunday.

I went inside of Starbucks.  My friendly barista told me that the decaf for my half caf was still brewing.  Then I heard screaming.

At first I assumed that my fellow patrons were outraged that Starbucks didn’t have the coffee already brewed, but apparently the helicopter-parented youth outside had gotten into, shall we say, fisticuffs.

So, one man in the store kept reading his newspaper and the woman was screaming.


Or, apparently, this galaxy.

I whipped out my fully-charged cell phone and dialed 9-1-1.

“There is a fight!” I said, giving the location. I was prepared for some questions regarding what time I’d be available to receive the key to the city from the Mayor, to thank me for my courage, but I was not prepared for what seemed like 20 questions.

“How many people are involved?” the dispatcher asked.

“I think four.  Although some are looking on,” I thought it was important to provide that information in case the lookers on decided to leap into action later.  As far as I was concerned, everyone was a suspect.  Especially the two guys pounding on the one guy.

“Did you see weapons?” the dispatcher was feeling chatty.

Weapons?  Look, this is all fun and everything, but weapons can really hurt.  Especially innocent bystanders.

“I didn’t!” I told the dispatcher.  “But the fight is still going on,” and then, for no good reason, except that I’ve seen it said on TV, I added: “Please hurry.”

As soon as I hung up, the assailants, obviously sensing that I was now ready to take them on, fled.

“OH MY GOD, he’s bleeding!” the non-New Yorker screamed.  And started to rush out of the safety of Starbucks.

“Where are you going?” I asked.  Suddenly feeling like I should keep tabs on everyone’s whereabouts.  You know, securing the scene.

“To see if he’s okay!” She shouted. “I’m not going to leave him there!”


I looked around.  On the one hand, sanctity of human life.  On the other hand, my coffee was still not ready.

The woman ran out of Starbucks, leaving her laptop behind, to help her fellow man,  and I refused to budge without my coffee.

To be fair, blood really disgusts me, so I would really prefer that if people got into a fight in front of me, they’d focus more on internal and perhaps psychological injuries (hey, words can really hurt, you know) and less on the blood and guts. But finally I got my coffee, and walked outside.  The guy was laying on the sidewalk and bleeding and laughing. I’m assuming that he had a topnotch sense of humor and was a roll with the punches type of guy.

The police arrived, in what felt like ten minutes after I called.  That was my fault, though, because when I placed the 911 call, I should have specified that they were not fighting slow-motion Kung-Fu style, where all the enemies surrounded one person and waited their turn to fight.

The police took our statements, looking at me with admiration and thoughts of recruiting me for their geriatric unit.

The non-New Yorker woman and I retreated back to Starbucks.

“I can’t believe you ran out there,” I told her.  “I’m deathly afraid of blood. Deathly,” I repeated for significant emphasis, hoping that it made me sound like I had an American with Disabilities Act caliber condition.

She was likewise shaken. “I’m a massage therapist,” she told me. “So I’m used to blood.”

New York must have the best massage therapists in the world because I’ve been getting massages here for years and have never once been bloodied.

“Listen,” I decided to share some wisdom with her. “I know you’re not from New York, but you really shouldn’t leave your laptop behind like that.”

She was very animated. “I think a human life is worth more than a laptop,” she told me.

It was hard not to agree.

Mostly because she had an Acer instead of a MacBook.


Bonus Blog Bits!

Of course I told everyone in my family this story.

Here are some reactions:

Young Ladrinka:  Yay! Do you think the bleeding guy is still there? Let’s go see!

Mama:  Are you in witness the relocation? (Look for my new blog! www.MotherhoodinIdaho.com!)

Husbandrinka: You always say yes to the weapons question.  Then the police get there faster.  Marinka: Next time I’ll say that they have weapons of mass destruction.  Husbandrinka: I’m just trying to help.

One year ago ...

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{ 31 comments… read them below or add one }

Sophie@Fabrications June 14, 2010 at 1:42 am

I’m amazed. How could you be so focused and calm before your morning coffee? I’m a mental wreck until after the coffee, and it takes even longer if there’s no cookie involved. But you? You jumped right in, with your fully charged cellphone, and even remembered the number for 9-1-1! I admire you.


Kirsten June 14, 2010 at 2:25 am

Oh my gosh. I can’t wait to ready MotherhoodinIdaho. Although they probably don’t have bloody massages there.


Casey June 14, 2010 at 8:27 am

I’m not from New York. Awesome.

I LOVE your blog……love your sense of humor…….this is one of my favorite posts by far.


Aly June 14, 2010 at 10:59 am

Ditto! One of your best posts yet!
Bloody massages . . . brilliant!


ShallowGal June 14, 2010 at 8:35 am

You drink half cafs? I need to do some soul searching about our future friendship.


Kate Coveny Hood
June 14, 2010 at 8:58 am

I love how you can even make “please hurry” funny…


June 14, 2010 at 9:30 am

I was struggling to decide what was the best part of the whole story. But then I realized: it’s that your phone was fully charged. Because seriously, all those other superhero attributes are just useless if you can’t place the critical call at the vital moment.


June 14, 2010 at 9:34 am

That is Marinka’s super hero power, Fully Charged Woman!


June 14, 2010 at 9:32 am

“weapons of mass destruction”, too funny!


Slow Panic
June 14, 2010 at 10:22 am

a massage therapist used to seeing blood? maybe she’s the one with weapons of mass destruction.


nycgirl0501 June 14, 2010 at 10:41 am

Ok I can’t get over the “I’m not from New York comment, what’s the #?” that was pretty funny. But you jumped into action dialing 911 that’s impressive. I don’t think I would have run out side laptop or not. The response from Husbandrinka was funny…yours was better 🙂


Steph June 14, 2010 at 11:18 am

Bwahahaha at your call!! Being from Wyoming I would have run out too. When my MIL moved here from El Paso we were taking her to the airport in a nearby town and a service truck was stalled on the side of the highway. My mom of course stopped and my MIL was RAPIDLY rolling up her window and locking her door!! We were shocked and she was terrified! You big city gals are too funny! 🙂

I can’t wait to read about the ceremony giving you the key to the city!!


Jane June 14, 2010 at 11:31 am

Bloody massages…………I have tears!!!!!!!!!


Headless Mom
June 14, 2010 at 12:34 pm


An Acer. Heh. Maybe if it was taken she could have upgraded.


magpie June 14, 2010 at 12:54 pm

“I’m a massage therapist so I’m used to blood.” WTF kind of massage is that?


June 14, 2010 at 1:07 pm

Marinka don’t you know that you can’t tell anyone your new supersecret location? Now they’re going to have to move you again. Damnit woman.


June 14, 2010 at 1:14 pm

LOL at your son.

I have to agree with Papa. Best way to get the cops to show up is say I think they do have a weapon. Then shrug when they ask you about it later. Maybe it was a cell phone. Who knows?


Jenni June 14, 2010 at 1:39 pm

I’m just wondering if you aren’t Gary Coleman’s wife, with your fear of blood and all 🙂


Roshni June 14, 2010 at 5:02 pm

I started laughing from ‘I was born at a young age…’ and still can’t stop!!


elenka June 14, 2010 at 5:21 pm

Hey Marinka, I just heard 2 things……The parents of the girl sailing around the world said that they cannot pay for the Indian Ocean rescue.
and…..She might have done this for her father’s potential reality show.


The Vamp Tramp June 14, 2010 at 9:56 pm

Freaking hilarious. Why am I just now finding your blog???


Margaret (Nanny Goats)
June 15, 2010 at 12:06 am

Who cares about her laptop, is yelling that you’re not from New York really a safe thing to do in the middle of a Starbucks? I’m surprised she walked away with her body still intact, what with her being a massage therapist and all, you know how bloody and violent that can be.


The Flying Chalupa
June 15, 2010 at 12:38 am

Prepare yourself. You are about to be showered with heaping amounts of praise, a shower of rose petals, a helping of admiration, a side salad of blog jealousy, a choir of singing angels, two scoops of vanilla ice cream, and a dollup of HOT DAMN, THIS WAS MIGHTILY ENTERTAINING!

And to top it all off, your survived to blog another day. Bravo.


June 15, 2010 at 1:45 am

WTF? I’m not from New York???

And, I do believe your clever husband is oh so right…say yes to weapons! Always!


Laura June 15, 2010 at 7:54 am

Bloody massages… Mine mostly involve oil.


June 15, 2010 at 8:45 am

Real American Heroes: Starbucks.


soccermom June 15, 2010 at 9:31 am

Wow you lead quite the exciting life. I dont know if I would of remaind as calm.

PS I used to do half calf, but recently gave up coffee all together to lose weight.


dusty earth mother June 15, 2010 at 10:10 am

“I’m a massage therapist, so I’m used to blood.” Don’t you love it when people randomly hand you great lines like this?

Well, I’m glad you survived your ordeal, Marinka, and were not subject to any weapons of mass destruction. We would have missed you.


June 15, 2010 at 1:42 pm

That woman sounds like a big friggin drama queen. If she has a cow like that every time she sees blood or a few punches being thrown she might not last long in New York. Or in any other town with more than, say 1000 inhabitants. She really need to keep more zen or she’ll get an aneurysm or something screaming like that.


fuck yeah, motherhood!
June 15, 2010 at 10:30 pm

“weapons of mass destruction” made me pee a little.


anymommy June 19, 2010 at 12:01 pm

You mocked Idaho, I’m a little hurt.

You’re hilarious. The end.


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