From: Masterpo
Sent: Tuesday, April 11, 2006 9:32 AM
To: Nagel, Erik
Cc: '
[email protected]'
Subject: Master Po's Story
**EDITOR'S NOTE: Please note that Po correctly provides Erik's email and then proceeds to misspell his name.**
Eric,
I spoke to Ben concerning a racial incident that I was involved in almost ten years ago. I did not want to interrupt the show so I am emailing this to you. If they get back on the racial bit your welcomed to use this.
This is my story:
I do not remember the exact date when I had the most horrific experience of my life, but I do know it was around 1986 around the time Howard Beach and its racial tension was all over the news. To this day, I try not to think about it but when I do, I keep asking myself if there was something, I should have done differently to prevent the incident.
Whenever the story does happen to come up people never fail to look at me skeptically. They doubt that anyone could have gone through what happened and lived to tell about it. I have learned not to care what people think. I know what happened that evening and so does the assailants, police who eventually showed up and the 7-11 staff who worked there that night.
It was winter and must have been about 2 or 3 a.m. My friend, his wife, and I were driving home from a party after dropping off my girlfriend at the time. The night was so cold I needed to stop somewhere in Holtsville, NY which was still a good distance from my house because my old car had no heat. I was hoping to buy some hot chocolate for us to help us stay warm and keep me awake. I also remember craving a blueberry muffin.
As I pulled into the parking lot of a 7-11 I noticed a group of guys standing there drinking on the right hand side of the store. I did not pay too much attention to them thinking my time there would be very short. Upon exiting the 7-11, I approached my car and while I opened my door, I happened to notice the guys still hanging out. I got into my car, turned the key in the ignition and nothing happened. I tried it again hoping that the engine would turn over and still the car made no sound. I realized my battery was dead and I needed a jump-start.
I asked my friend if he could find someone with cables and a car, which he did. Everything seemed fine with the two guys who agreed to help us until my friend crossed the cables hooking up negative to positive and positive to negative. Sparks flew and the battery from the other car made a loud noise. At that point, a night of partying turned into the worst night of our lives.
The two guys did not appreciate the damage to their car so they responded with verbal attacks which brought unwanted attention to us. My friend was not helpful in his reaction responding aggressively which accelerated the situation. He was not aware of the group of guys I had spotted earlier and before I was able to tell him it was too late. They had noticed a problem and came toward us. There were about a dozen of them and they were obviously coming for my friends and me.
My friend and I were standing on the driver's side of the car, his girlfriend still inside. I pleaded with her to lock the doors and stay in the car no matter what. I turned toward the group and attempted to break the tension by cracking a few jokes and mentioning that all I wanted to do was to get some hot chocolate and a blueberry muffin. I offered to pay for the battery and I told them we can all laugh about this down the block at a local bar and all the drinks were on me. It did not seem to help. They were looking for something else and they made it clear by being verbally offensive while I tried to convince them that there was no reason for confrontation. They responded with racial references calling my friend and me spics and being obviously aggressive.
As they came toward us, I noticed one of the guys leading them had a shirt from a local martial arts studio. I thought I could at least appeal to his better judgment and associate myself with his martial arts background. I mentioned something about the code of being a martial artist and that I knew of his instructor and the form of martial arts he taught. I was trying to relate to him on a level with which I thought he could connect but he had already made up his mind. He immediately took it as an insult and said that I should not talk about his instructor. He then proceeded to make the most threatening comments I have ever heard in my life while he pulled out a switchblade and told me what he planned to do with it. His plans were unimaginable and demented.
At this point, I knew that it was a life or death situation. If I did not react quickly, we would not walk away. I reached into my car on the side of my seat knowing I had my sticks with me from a martial arts class I had attended earlier that day. Meanwhile, I still attempted to try to reason with them. As soon as they saw my stick, more of them stopped hiding their weapons, which included another knife, a pipe and what looked to be brass knuckles. One of them had a broken bottle.
The banter from them continued all the while. I cannot remember it all, but I know I heard things like, "Spic, I'm going to slice you", or "We're going to cut you real good, Spic." The young lady that was supposed to stay in the car panicked and ran out of the drivers side of the car where we were standing. I saw five or six guys starting to chase her and I had all kinds of thoughts about what they would do to her. I pushed my way through a few of the guys and when I got to her I pushed through the guys around her and rushed her towards the store trying to get her to safety. I got her there but they had followed closely behind.
I did not realize until it was too late that I had compromised a safer position for myself because I no longer had my friend or my car behind me. I was completely exposed and surrounded by these guys, some of them carrying their weapons.
My friend was now dealing with two of the attackers without weapons and I had the worst of the group. They attacked and as I responded, I was conscious that my defense was much less vicious then what they were trying to give me. I was trying to defend myself by hitting their thighs and biceps instead of more lethal areas. For an incident that may have taken thirty seconds it felt like a lifetime. I was seeing it in slow motion and nothing I did seemed effective.
My friend connected with me and we were forced to back up towards the 7-11 door. I told my friend to open it. He said he could not open the door because the people on the inside who worked for the 7-11 were holding the door closed. I did not know if they had locked it or were just holding it closed. I am not sure because I was too busy fending off the attacks aimed at my face, stomach, and groin while my friend tried to get the people inside to open the door.
My arms were getting tired and were burning from swinging the stick for so long. My stick was moving constantly in a 180-degree pattern and I was able to swing it quickly enough so they could not see it. Fear kept them away because each time someone got close they got hit. I knew I could not keep up the pace and that I would eventually drop the stick from exhaustion and I panicked. Adrenaline took over and I started swinging my stick towards the glass trying to break it. I jumped back into it kicking the glass. I banged my head and elbows into the glass while I kept swinging the stick trying to get to safety.
Finally, the people inside opened the door and we ran in. I stood by the door waiting for them to come in but they could not. They knew they would not be able to all come through the door at the same time and I would have the advantage. My forearms were swollen from the effort and my head and elbows throbbing, but they saw they would get a crack across the hand, to the knee, or head if they tried to come through the door. At that point, my compassion was no longer. We were cornered and I was about to be forced to take it to another level, this was not good.
When they realized they could not get to my friends or me, they broke my windshield and started hitting my car. The police finally arrived and chased everyone away. After hearing the story, the officers approached me and asked me where my gun was. They could not believe that I was able to fend off the attack with only a stick. They took me and placed me in the back of the squad car. They intended to arrest me for something. I was still considerably shaken and pumped up and probably gave them the wrong impression. After interviewing, everyone in the store and others who were witnesses the police officers finally released me.
For a many years after it happened I started having nightmares and there were nights of suddenly waking up drenched in sweat.
Today, as I write this story my heart starts palpitating and my gut starts to heart. To this day, I never found out who they were.
Thank you,
Master Po
