Fight Club

It was our last Muay Thai class, and we got to beat one another up to pulp. After all, we might never see each other again, so what better way than bruises and broken bones to remember your classmates by, right?

To test the “significant” strength we have attained from the past 9 lessons, our Instructor has decided that the girls will be the pad holders for the boys during our last class. Have I mention before that being a pad holder is equivalent to being a human sandbag?

Granted the boys were initially wary that they might hurt us frail dainty females but that soon was replaced by a grim determination to make us sweat when the instructor came round and barked, "Oi. These girls are not even sweating. Don't give them face! Kick harder!" For the record, The German and I WERE sweating like pigs but compared to the boys, we still look a picture of grace and beauty because when us girls sweat, we “glow” whereas the boys just look like drenched wash cloths.

Being a pad holder also mean we have to give instructions ("ok, left jab, right punch, kick left, kick right, uppercut, hook, hook...") and make sure that we are holding the pad the right way accordingly. The German had her pad-holder shouting “Elbow!” but held up the pad for a hook. The instructor barked, "'Just elbow him anyway since he asks for it! That will make him learn!"

When it’s time for the boys to be the pad holders for us girls, it incidentally became payback time. I don’t know why I keep missing the pads (by accident, of course) and hitting the boys behind it instead. It must be BAD pad-holding, I say. One of the boys rolled back in pain after I give him a swift roundhouse kick on the belly and I had to stop and apologize frantically. The instructor came round and barked, "You, Pad Holder! Pay attention! Hold the pad properly!" I hid my face behind my gloves and grin. Hehe…

My next male partner is a brute. Whenever a person is punching, the pad holder has to push the pad slightly into the punch to reduce the force. Problem is, he was literally "punching" into my punches with the pads instead. "OUCH!" I screamed. "Can you stop that? I am supposed to be the one hitting YOU!" He went red-faced and stopped -- for just a while but he pick it up again soon after. MEN!

After we are done with pad work (phew!), it was actual sparring time. With (dirty smelly) gloves on, we were told to practice all the moves we learnt on our partner. The German and I had a really good time kicking and punching each other out and grappling each other to the floor. Of course, there was some giggling involved.

But the giggling stop immediately when the Instructor barked at us to change partners.

The boys stared us girls. We, in turn, stared at The Instructor who was pretending to be nonchalant about our shocked looks. The tall lanky Chinese boy on my right exclaimed, "But I don't want to fight a girl."

But he had to. And he had to fight me. When we faced each other, Tall Lanky Chinese Boy said, "Ok, don’t worry. Just hit me alrrright?" I don’t know what he thought I was worried about, but I did as told. I started throwing him punches. Many, many punches. He hid and withdrew and almost fell back. The instructor shouted at him, "STOP BACKING AWAY FROM HER! HIT HER BACK!" and he did. Squarely on my face. I tried blocking with my gloves but it was too late. One side of my contact lens flew out of my eyes.

“WAIT! I CAN’T SEE!” I shouted, squinting my eyes.

Bet you have never seen two fighters take off their gloves in the middle of a duel to look for a missing contact lens have you?

After the missing lens is located, washed and put back in my eye, we were ready to fight again. This time round I gave him a series of kicks. He managed to grab my ankle under his armpit (that's how you stop your opponent's kicks) and he actually sneered and said, "Heh. Heh. Now, what are YOU going to do about this?"

THIS BOY IS SO IRRITATING!! So I leapt forward (I had to jump because he is tall), grabbed the back of his neck with the crook of my arm, and knee him in the stomach. We both went tumbling onto the floor. Ouch!

The bell rang signaling time to swap partners. My next partner: The Instructor.

"But I don't want....," I began. Everyone grinned deviously.

Sparring with your instructor is both scary and disheartening. Scary because he judges your every move. Disheartening because no matter how hard you attack him, you can't do any real damage.

"Ok here’s what you do," the Instructor said to me. "Every time I hit you, you hit me back, ok? An eye for an eye. Geddit?" I nod. So he kick me (lightly). I kick back (hard). He (lightly) jab me, I jabb back (hard). He pretends to take a swing at the right side of my head, I (didn't pretend to) swing a punch to his left side. Just imagine a scene out of Animal Planet - where the dominant male is teaching a hopeless cub how to defend itself. It was fun but sadly pathetic.

Our next session is something new called "escape tactics". Basically we learnt how to escape when your opponent locks you down. The key is to make "desperate sudden movements" to make your opponent lose grip. Jerk about, jump away, kick back, use your knees, elbows, whatever you can. So for the next ten minutes, The German and I practice grabbing each other and using “desperate sudden movements” to knock the person off balance. I think this is one of the real defining moments of our friendship. I still have a bruise on my left arm from being tripped over (on purpose).

At the end of the class (which lasted close to 2 hours), I had zero strength left to execute the warm down, including the 50 push-ups. Tall Lanky Chinese Boy was tasked to do the counting for the class but to our dismay, he collapsed at number "29".

Before we left, the Instructor informed us that we are now qualified to join the next level up which would be the intermediate class. The German's male sparring partner came up to her and growled, "See you at intermediate class. I'll beat YOU up!" (My goodness! Is that Muay Thai flirting or what?)

Am I up for intermediate class? *groan*