I worked with this beautiful nurse at Saint Agnus Hospital, right after I moved to Baltimore in the late 80s. We had this one biker in there who had a minor injury, a walk-in patient. I was a new tech, had taekwondo, boxing and kickboxing behind me, had fought out of the Windy City Gym back in Chicago.

This patient, he was big, tall, white, just a mustache, not a beard and his hair wasn’t long—but he did have his colors on—you know, the denim vest with his club and territory on it. He had a minor injury, but we want the patient seated, especially when you are going to have to administer a local [anesthesia] with a needle. You would be surprised how many people fear needles.

This nurse, a nice petite build, put her hands on his shoulder and bicep, ever so slightly, to calm him down and get him to recline onto the gurney. It is a minor injury—as far as we know, in fact, I can’t tell you what was wrong with him because I kind of got besides myself when he picked her up and slammed her across the gurney, breaking her back—she wasn’t paralyzed, but it ruined her career. She would be in severe pain the rest of her life and we have to move a lot of people, a lot of dead weight. Nurses, techs and transporters end up with back issues just because of the nature of the work.

He turned towards me and I kicked him in the chest, I kicked that man in the chest at least five times until he was against the wall and lit him up with punches until he was crumpled on the floor. I kind of lost control you might say, went a little mental.

The one thing though, is that as far as I know, those biker people are all terrified of needles.