As rookie bouncer learning the ropes I used to observe how quickly and explosively the head doorman would grab and eject someone as I helped or watched his back. Rapid response and most importantly teamwork were the principles I learned in becoming a bouncer. The venue where I started work was used for student nights during the weekdays but on the weekends was the watering hole of all those turned down by the more upmarket establishments of the city. Working the weekends I would often get the butterflies of the slow adrenaline dump when starting my shift knowing I will almost certainly be dealing with a fight before closure.
After a hiatus, I am once again teaching martial arts. It has been a while since I put my thoughts, philosophies and insights into a blog. I am once again in that period of limbo when in between jobs I have some time on my hands. At times like this, my mind starts to wander as a deluge of memories and nostalgia comes pouring in.
Last weekend I was rather surprised to have a couple of people from Rotorua contacting me to ask about my self-defence classes. One lady was particularly interested in the Women’s Self Defence course that I ran back in 2010; she wanted to allay her fear of violence by learning some practical self-defence skills. I was a bit tickled to hear that people of Rotorua were still talking about my martial arts and self-defence classes and seminars from two years back.
The name Trayvon echoes around social networking, the world’s media and on the streets of New Zealand. As a martial artist and former bouncer I think is a sad state of affairs when a 28-year-old security guard is unable to whoop a 15-year-old youth, unable to take a beating and has to rely on a firearm for protection from an unarmed youth. What is even sadder is that a hoodie-wearing African youth buying a can of pop and a bag of skittles instantly comes under scrutiny. This can only be attributed to the aberrant conditioning of a kooky and gung-ho community of a fenced off Florida enclave. To me, it looks like the first step down a slippery slope of white only areas and locally sanctioned apartheid.