Welcome to Tuesday Night Fights, a weekly celebration and analysis of street-fight videos found on YouTube. Tonight's fisticuffs: "Las Vegas Fight Hilarious." Tonight's commentator: Me. (Coming next week: A Russian concrete pile-driver.)
Listen, I thought long and hard about using a landscape-shot battle for the first Tuesday Night Fights of the Kinja era. In the end, I decided against it. This, because I love me the people of Fremont Street. This, because they’re offensive even by Vegas standards. Allow me to explain.
One late morning in March several years ago, me and my boy Spree were the first to enter the Glitter Gulch. Now, I’ve seen some shit over 18 years of covering crime in South Carolina, Atlantic City and Philly. Some shit you don’t forget. But I’d never smelled anything as putrid as the nose-rape breeze inside the Gulch that morn.
It was death. Worse than floater-body death. Neither human nor animal.
It was Fremontian.
Cause: Eternally unknown.
We didn’t ask about it. Pleasantries ensued. The smell didn’t dissipate. Our caring about it did.
Fast forward a year. Same March Madness trip. Rather than four days in the lap of Bellagio luxury, we opted to work 48 hours in a Golden Nugget suite into the mix. Because the Nugget windows faced the Gulch. This is the type of people we are.
Cross-city voyage day arrives. Desert travel was rough that day.
Our Filipino friend – I don’t know, call him Casey’s Dragon – was not prepared to downgrade. He wandered the Bellagio floor. He had a handle of vodka in one hand and a warm Coors Light in the other.
One shoe was MIA.
All his credit and ATM cards were maxed out. After two days.
He was mumbling “I’m going to the pool. Where’s the pool?” We convinced him the pool was in a cab. The story, he bought. The driver’s Skittles, he stole.
We get to the Nugget. Casey’s Dragon disappears. (Later, we learn his broke-ass found the pool.)
The other four of us – me, Spree, Freddie and a bald biker – amble out onto Fremont. (Breaking chronology for a moment, this day would end magnificently. You can read all about that here.). We’re hungry. Fast-food felt like a better option that dirt-people carnival fare. The McDowell’s emblem drew us to the Plaza Hotel & Casino, I think it was called. Sausage McMuffins > $0.99 hot dogs. This is just fact in places where dignity goes to die, especially when you’re wrung out.
Anyway, this ferrety blonde blocks our path about 10 steps from the Main Street crosswalk. More toes than teeth kinda dame. Hollowed-out eyes that screamed you will not avoid interaction. We did not avoid interaction.
She might’ve asked for money. I don’t really remember that. What I think happened was she just rolled up on Freddie thick.
Freddie, mind you, had not been to Las Vegas before this trip. This is his first interaction with someone fully or sloppily clothed.
She scratched herself, tilted her head and opened her mouth.
“I’d tell you to fuck off,” she mewed, “but it’s not Tuesday.”
She was right. It was Monday. Four people laughed in her face. She scowled. She almost fell after taking three steps. That was all she would say. We went looking for her the next day. No luck. Pity.
Anyway, the second that this horribly-filmed Fremont experience crossed my screen, she’s who I thought of. Specifically, when the lady in lime-green pants’ smilesnarled while playfully bouncing bro’s head off Fremont concrete. I took this as proof that Miss Fuck Off may have twice bred and raised 'em off the grid.
Granted, we do not see what prompts bro there to make “the worst kind of fall you can have.” Nor do we know what’s “the worst kind of fight you can get in.” For fuck’s sake, we can’t even tell what that lady there wants back with a furious commitment to cause. Best guess is a DayGlo octopus toy.
What we do know is this: As Fremont’s ringmaster announces a very special treat is coming right up, bitchtits rallies to his dark-stocking’ed feet – beads draped around his precious neck – and says, then reiterates, “Fuck you” to lady foe. He follows up with a third Fuck You and then a doublefinger-bang not far from the aforementioned Gulch.
There are SO many questions left. That’s what Fremont Street is. And that's what Fremont Street should always be. No solutions can be found there. Questions don't deserve answers there either. There is no hope, only suspension of disbelief. If you have a problem with that, fuck off. Because there's no way that fight wasn't filmed on a Tuesday.
And now the rest of the Tuesday Night Fights:
• White dudes do battle on wet concrete. Apparently, one of them is named Aiden. Bad ass. (Start of Violence, 0:04)
• Well, this is unfortunate. (SoV, 0:29, but watch it all)
• The bias is immediately evident when our narrator introduces the soon-to-be brawlers as “Erica” and “this bitch.” Unfortunately, for this bitch, she is the title character in “Blonde Gets Her Nose Teeth Broken In Parking Lot Brawl Fight.” (SoV, 0:22)
• If I'm not mistaken, there's a juggalo up in this here scuffle outside Maloneys somewhere in New Mexico. (SoV, instantly)
• The Jeff vs. Bradon Intermission Report:
• Chicago’s west side. Late nite, gas station at Madison and Leamington. safe to say they was gettin it crackin! (SoV, 0:10)
• Sorry, but the [Florida] tag on this "Cops VS Couple" battle is way unnecessary. (SoV, instantly)
• Son confronts mother’s boyfriend. Son drops mother’s boyfriend. (SoV, 0:15)
• This week on Ass. (SoV, 0:03)
• Your Internet-Café Brawl Intermezzo:
• The Wreck-It Ralph promotion went totally awry at some school in Akron. (SoV, 0:33)
• There is a high-school lab-desk leg-lock. There is a savage beastbear grunt. There is a teacher restoring peace. There is a seat flip. And there is a summary: “Some crazy fight that I filmed jack beat some ass.” Yeah bro. (SoV, instantly)
• This seems to be ladies brawling in a Saudi Arabian mosque or something. I really don’t know. I just don’t think I’ve seen anything like this before. Not even in erotic Homeland fanfic. (SoV, 0:05)
• Local bar security vs. a “gang” of crackas. Who ya got? (SoV, instantly). Semi-related: Black girl vs. white girl. Who ya got? (SoV, 0:30)
• The How To Defend Yourself Vs. Two Foes With A Stick One To Grow On:
• From America’s birthplace, there was some static in a West Philly High classroom the other day, and a resourceful pupil was sure to record it. (SoV, 0:20)
• From TNF Beijing Correspondent Anthony Tao: Brawl in the boonies, featuring banners and brass. (SoV, instantly)
• Seems as if everything Latvian could use a boost from a rap soundtrack. (SoV, instantly)
• There’s a bunch of scripture quoted in this here video. Well, not in the video. It’s just a bunch of chicks fighting. The words are in the description field. So, maybe this is some meta thing about the wages of sin or whatever. I don’t know. The white guys seems to like filming it anyway. (SoV, instantly)
• The Semi-Regular Russian Gang-Brawl Live Look-In:
• Oh what the hell, here's some more Russian brawlin.’ If you're not scared of what'd happen if the Cold War re-starts with all sorts of fistacular confrontation, you're way too 'Merican proud. (SoV, 0:03)
• There’s a question asked during “EXTREME FIGHT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! GUY GETS FISTED UP REALLY REALLY BADLY !!!!!” that warrants consideration. That question is “Parody!!!?” Hard to tell. I mean, we’re talking about a really, really bad fisting here. (SoV, 0:10)
• Someone labeled this “Hot Beach Brawl!!” It’s a’ight. (SoV, 0:10)
• Others: "Strip Club Fight Ends with 2 Men Losing Legs." "Mother Knocks Out No Legged Pedophile In Wheelchair In VA!" "Parking Lot Brawl At Flowers High School." "Little Ceasars Brawl." "Knock out." "HOOD FIGHT_@KAY_HD." "Insane bitch fight!" "REDNECK FIGHT AND KNOCKOUT AT NASCAR." "Violence on Englands Streets - Raw footage man gets stabbed then a massive brawl breaks out." "Southside Shelby beatdown." "meninas em pura pancadaria." "Crazy train fight with drunk guy and crack heads." "Ghetto chick fight." "Boone County Beat Down." "Street fight - man gets battered after kicking off."
• The “Latin Cat Fight” Coda: