This sounds much different than the interaction
@The Oi had with him. That was a wild story.
Ugh. Don’t remind me.
I’m not supposed to say the name of the place where this happened because he still goes there from time to time and the owner (at least back then) happens to be related to one of my clients.
So I walk into the place with one of my clients. The guy had asked to go there, told me his family owned it and it would be a great time. I trusted him.
It’s a college bar so I was kind of surprised he wanted to go there in the first place. I get in there and it turns out they had great craft beers and food.
At my client’s suggestion, I got a pulled pork sandwich. One of the best I’ve ever had.
The place had one of those “test your strength” punching bags up front.
I’m looking at my food when my client ducks down really low, like a beaten dog. He says, “oh no. Here we go again.”
In the front door walks a few guys wearing Florida State rugby club gear. Big dudes. The whole place, which was packed and loud went dead silent. Surreal.
The guys zoned in on the machine immediately. They started out slow with a couple of the guys punching the machine, the thing was cranking up to numbers I couldn’t even believe. They seemed to be taking out every ounce of rage they’d ever experienced up to that moment on that machine.
My client was usually extremely talkative and we were supposed to be working on a deal so I was getting concerned.
All eyes were on these guys and I’m noticing that everyone who was in there is acting like my client. Stock still, motionless.
These guys are punching, punching, punching. The numbers are just cranking away. Spinning like an insane broken carnival ride.
Suddenly my client grabs my wrist and makes eye contact with me. He was pointing with his eyes to duck down.
A chant started up “Hop-Hop-Hop-Hop.” They were pounding the table. Silverware and plates hit the ground, drinks splashed everywhere.
And then, Dustin Hopkins addressed the machine and I shit you not he jump kicks the punching bag. He flew at the bag viciously. The ticker cranks up higher than anything anyone had seen that night. Next, a roundhouse. Next, a donkey kick. The rugby team is going insane. The crowd is scrunching in their seats.
Then Hopkins stopped and pointed to the largest of the rugby guys, who nodded. He began walking around the room from table to table with a stern look on his face that would shift from self-satisfied smirk to boiling rage.
“Eenie meenie mine mo,” he says finally landing on my client. My client is shaking uncontrollably. I tried to stop the rugby guy but he threw me back into my seat and pinned me there. I had no chance.
The rugby guy PICKS UP MY CLIENT onto his shoulder and carries him over to Dustin Hopkins. The rugby team circles around him. Dustin proceeded to kick the punching bag into this man’s head three times in a row rapid fire before dismissing him back to our table.
Once he was done, the rugby group dispersed, and left the restaurant. The entire place instantly flipped back to normal, silverware clinking on plates, tvs blaring, people laughing.
My client staggered back to the table and begged me not to tell anyone that it happened. I promised him I’d say nothing and hadn’t until this day. I’m not sure how
@Selby knew in the first place.
You guys are all sworn to secrecy.