I was recently speaking with EWA wrestler Trent Ferrell about a show he had done in Pennsylvania and he went right to the tale of his interrupted dining experience later in the morning, after he and his friends had arrived back in Baltimore County, in Dundalk. Largely bereft of trailer parks, in which to house our trash, Baltimore County has Dundalk instead…

“It was Saturday night—Sunday morning, after the show. We were at the diner at about two AM. When they walked in they were like fresh out of a bar; loud, carrying on, but friendly. The group had five or six people; mostly girls, one or two guys. They were in their twenties.

I was very hungry, starving. I had a show earlier that day, and I’ve got to take my shirt off for that, so I keep it light up until show time. I had pumpkin pancakes and three kinds of Hobbit meat—some promotion for the movie. So I’m not even looking up. I had food in front of me. I did notice that the one tall brunette was kind of cute; caught my eye.

They were there long enough to place an order. Then it was two people yelling, kind of blurred together. At this point it was no longer the drunk talk but an argument; aggressively yelling. I didn’t even look. Then my friend says, ‘Those chicks are fighting’.

When I turned around I saw a couple of swings; what I thought was the tail end of it—they were being pulled apart. There was the tall cute girl, and a short stout one fighting. Their friends were trying to break it up. The manager was saying that he called the police and their friends are trying to get them out of there. Then the cute one breaks free and runs across and punches the other girl in the face. They were fighting like men; no hair pulling, slapping or clawing, just heavy punches. Both of them were going at it hard and it was a very even fight, punches right in the face that you could hear. This was actual boxing in the diner! They both scored wildly to the face—there was no pretence at defense.

They got pulled apart again. Then the heavy one broke free and did a short little run and they started brawling between the booths. She was attacking the attractive one. They were both swinging so fast that it was hard to follow. There was no blood. At this point the friends finally got them separated and out the door before the cops got there. I didn’t follow up on it. My food was still warm.”

Trent, though a valuable contributor to our Harm City data base, did make some egregious errors in his reporting. First, he did not even take note of the stout woman’s hair color [this author is betting bleach blonde with dark roots], or any unpleasant physical characteristics, and had eyes only for the attractive combatant, depriving us of possibly enlightening details. Secondly Trent failed to get the name and phone number of the tall attractive brunette so that this dedicated clinician might interview and console her. Trent, to his credit, did assure this author that he would, in the future, adhere to our strict Harm City reportage guidelines.