In World War I, crossfire was king. Troops waited in trenches on either side of the battlefield and until one rushed the opposing side, which had machine guns set up every so often to shoot the onrushing masses.
Of course, the shooting didn't just take place straight on. The machine guns were ideally set up to take advantage of where the enemies would approach. By using crossfire from multiple locations at once, defenders were able to shoot at targets from multiple angles. Attackers had to cross this "no-man's land", suffering heavy casualties until they were routed or finally got to the machine guns.
Until tanks and proximity detonators and the World Wide Web were introduced in the 1930's, crossfire was king. Fortunately, I was born in the late 1930's, so I never had to see crossfire in action. Until recently.
By "recently" I mean a trip I made as part of a group to a comedy show. There were about eight of us who knew one another to a greater or lesser extent. We were all single except for one pair and my friend LOL, who brought a demi-date.
Demi, of course, comes from the Latin dimidium--to cut in half. A demi-date is, naturally, an outing (or participant in an outing) where one of the two people think that (s)he is on a date... and the other does not. Yeah. Good times.
There was seemingly no malice in the presence of the demi-date (who we will call "Number Six"). There were no rivals for LOL's affections--no one to make jealous. She seemingly was interested enough to see if she was into him... but still the "demi" tag was applicable as far as I can tell.
Now, a demi-date is not news in and of itself. To paraphrase OJ Simpson (which I so rarely do... I usually prefer to quote him precisely), "People go on demi-dates every day."
When a demi-date is subjected to crossfire, though, I think that a tribunal needs to be set up to look into "All's Fair in Love and War"-crimes. Because it, as it turns out, was a bit brutal.
Let's look at what crossfire is, graphically. I'll put the image and then define the different players for you in a moment.
So a quick rundown of what you're seeing:
1. ... (LOL's co-worker).
2. TravelMate 2000 (LOL's ex-bf's best friend).
3. Me.
4. LOL's best friend and her bf (who happens to be good friends with LOL's ex).
5. LOL.
6. Number 6 (why ELSE would he have that nickname?).
We were all seated, at tables, in almost literally this formation.
The comedy stage is towards the bottom of the image, above, so Number Six was facing away from the machine guns... err, group... to watch the show, and in order to talk to or interact with LOL at all, he had to turn around in his chair, drawing the attention of the entire group. He had to enter no-man's land.
I saw this configuration early, but I knew there was nothing I could do about it. Number Six seemed like a good enough guy, but he was in trouble. I felt as WWI soldiers must have felt before battle, knowing their positions were about to be charged, but knowing, too, that they were going to get chopped to pieces.
How many times Number Six tried to cross no man's land that day is an question I can't answer. I can only relate an anecdote of the terrors of a demi-date.
The show had been going for over an hour. Mini-burgers had been delivered (as fate would have it, I would successfully mooch two of the three, although I left the fries to LOL for fear of losing a finger) and alcohol (watered-down alcohol, of course, but alcohol) had been served. Number Six seemed content with his lot, facing the stage and chuckling as the comedian did material about pipe layers and Starbucks.
It was the calm before the storm, however, as Number Six pivoted in his chair, made a comment about the show, and lightly placed his hand upon LOL's leg.
I don't know how many of us saw that precise moment. I know that it was at least three of us, not including LOL herself. There was a quick collective intake of air (I call it a "gasp"... that's one in the bank for me!) and rumblings after Number Six went back to the show, his kino plow failing to find fertile ground. LOL changed her seating position to move her legs just a bit farther from Number Six... just out of reach, by my reckoning.
Details are fuzzy, but I believe that I let out a, "Woah!" under my breath, and there were quiet snickers from most of us in the defensive positions as Number Six was chewed up and spit out in demi-date no man's land.
One person once said about WWI, "Viewed as a drama, the war is somewhat disappointing." I will turn that on its head a bit here and say, "Viewed as a war, the [demi-date] drama was not disappointing."
No comments:
Post a Comment