Vignette: Egos, B-boys and Letters

One letter, one night, one violent confrontation: A snapshot of youth culture and raw emotions in 90s Spain.

This Vignette was triggered by a random study from 2010. The study reports that 23% of the surveyed young people in Spain have participated in a physical fight in nightlife environments, which surfaced this memory. I want to warn you that what you are about to read involves violence and swearing. I tell the tale as I remember it.

The street is half empty, there are groups of young people on both sides, most of them wearing rapper outfits. I light a cigarette and listen as Miguel tells me a trivial story, a stupid joke with a hint of misogyny.

Imagined with Midjourney by Mrkeena.

It's getting dark, and we've just ordered a mini bottle of vodka with orange juice. Roberto, as always, is running late. We lean against the wall outside the bar. I notice that at this hour, conversations still seem to have a normal tone, without the shouting that will be heard later.

I see a new group arriving on the street, a group of girls. Most of the guys look, with varying degrees of subtlety, at their arrival, like a lion eyeing an unsuspecting gazelle.

When I look again, I see Maria, and my heart skips a beat. I didn't expect to find her here.

She approaches a group of guys who look like troublemakers. Maria gives two kisses to everyone and gives an intense kiss to one of them.

My heart sinks, and a feeling of deep sadness and abandonment causes a sharp pain in my forehead. I massage my temples.

"Are you okay?" Miguel asks. I nod as if nothing's wrong, take a drag from my cigarette, and look at my feet as if nothing's happening.

"Oh, there's Mari..." Miguel says.

"I know."

An uncomfortable silence follows, and at the end of the street, I hear my name bellowed. It's Roberto, arriving impeccable with his shirt, his long hair, and his ear-to-ear smile. Roberto is tall, friendly, an old-fashioned gentleman, but in the context of where we are, his appearance stands out.

"What's up, guys!" he shouts while hugging us both like a bear.

"Good, just here, waiting to get wasted," Miguel responds.

"How's it going?" I ask.

"Good, I just saw a chick I was with a few days ago, I told her we might see each other later at the bars. Have you guys made plans with Miguel and the others?"

"We told them we'd be around here," Miguel replies.

Roberto lights a cigarette, moving his hair like in a shampoo commercial. He's wearing his Panama Jacks and his Alpha jacket half-open, just enough to show that his shirt is Ralph Lauren. I smile.

"And what's up with you? Has the cat got your tongue or what?" Roberto asks while exhaling smoke.

"Nothing," I respond tersely while shrugging.

From the corner of my eye, I see someone approaching, a guy dressed in a Public Enemy b-boy t-shirt, Air Jordans, and sagging pants. I become alert as I do whenever someone new approaches, distrustful, tense.

I look towards the bar and try to follow the conversation Miguel and Roberto are having. Without enthusiasm.

Someone touches my shoulder.

I turn around somewhat abruptly. It's the b-boy.

"Juanjo?"

I realize it's the guy who just kissed Maria. The blood rushes to my head, and I feel adrenaline building up in my veins.

"Yes, do I know you?"

"Yeah, you know me, don't you remember?"

He puts his arm around me. "Come on, I want to introduce you to some buddies."

All the alarms start going off in my head. I see Roberto and Miguel staying behind, looking at each other.

The b-boy takes me to his group of friends, in total there are four guys with similar outfits and gloomy looks.

"Look, I'd like you to meet..." he says their names, but I'm not paying attention. My heart is racing, and I understand that I'm in a trap.

"Did you write a letter to Maria?" he blurts out. The question catches me off guard. I see Maria from the corner of my eye, away from the group, looking worried. "Not a good sign," I think.

I say nothing.

"I asked you a question," his tone is threatening.

I take a step back when one of his friends makes me fall by putting his knee out to trip me.

I fall to the ground and hear a hiss. "Fuzzzzz" My eyes fill with tears, and I think, "They just maced me."

I feel a punch, followed by another and two kicks. I hear Roberto and Miguel, "Hey! What the fuck!"

I'm completely blinded, trying to defend myself by throwing punches in the air. My eyes are tearing, and I can barely breathe, but rage overtakes me.

"Whack" I land one of the punches and grab onto that shirt while someone punches me in the ribs, leaving me breathless. I hear the sound of the fight as if I wasn’t part of it.

"Leave him alone, you're going to kill him!" says a feminine voice.

I'm on the ground in a fetal position, someone kicks me in the back, my nose is bleeding, I try to cover my head with my hands.

The blows and kicks pile up, but I don't feel pain, just rage and adrenaline rising.

"Leave him, the cops are coming, let's go!" says someone close to me. I hear the sound of several people running away.

Miguel picks me up, and as I get up, I start running, still unable to see.

I feel my eyes swollen and the iron taste of blood covering my lips. Miguel and Roberto try to stop me while I shout, "Motherfuckers! I'm going to kill you motherfuckers!! Cowards!!!"

"We need to take you to a hospital," Roberto says.

"No!" I respond firmly.

"Let's go, the cop cars are close."

I walk leaning on Miguel, looking at the ground, unable to see well.

My whole body hurts, my nose is bleeding, and the adrenaline makes me shake.

I think to myself, "I just wrote a letter."