Today when I was walking to an industrial gig one of my best friends was slapped in the face by a random 14-year-old walking past. Slapped is an understatement. A punch would be a better world. A punch causing a bleeding nose for the next hour. From a guy against a girl. The ultimate sin committed by someone too young to know the basic rules of the world.

The reaction of this made this more interesting than the act.

Everyone felt anger and hatred, whether controllable or not towards the person who hit her. Much swearing was directed at the person who committed this fowl and inconsiderate act. A party sprinted after the perpetrators of this deed. The repercussions and the thought’s that occurred due to this act were far more interesting and important the act itself.

I wished that I was struck instead. Me being a girly guy. Me being someone who has sworn many times never to hit anyone back EVER. Yet I wished it were me who was struck because I was a guy. I could handle a broken nose. I could handle pain. Why? Because I am male.

Why does this makes a difference? .Despite all the gender equity I felt guilty that I was not hit. I wished that the other girly boi who was with us were hit. I was glad the masculine guy who came with us was not hit, for he would cause more trouble than the incident deserved. I wondered why no one could accept that 14 year olds cause problems that do not necessarily deserve to be solved with return violence.

We went to the police as nice polite people do who ask for no trouble. Here we asked for help, only to hear that many young groups matching the description were picked up only to find there were no evidence let alone no law to charge them.

After diverting ourselves to the bathroom we arrived to giggling and hilarity form our friend inside the interviewing room. Apparently not only are meeting's with the police fun (when you are not the one with being interrogated) you can also meet all sorts of interesting people outside the station. Finally, we had finished and it was time to go to our destination where I was looking forward to telling our stories of woe on the way to gain sympathy (and hopefully free drinks) only to be told that everyone involved wished to keep it quiet.

Such was my Friday night.