I have never been in fights other than verbal fights, but I've known people who are always on the look-out for a physical fight they can jump in on. I recall a friend on the east coast who would always fantasize about throwing someone through this beautiful floor to ceiling divided glass window at one house we often drove by. I had another friend who would go to bars, order his beer and drink it with his back turned to the bar. He was like a hawk on a power line, just looking for a mouse to run through the field below.
I was surprised when Blue Mamba told me about her fighting history. When growing up she always felt sorry for the underdog regardless of what position the underdog was fighting for. If there was an underdog in a fight she'd jump right into the brawl to help out. She just loved the excitement. Mostly she loves fighting.
If you could see her now she appears as a stylish professional adult of means and would never suspect there is a savage heart beneath with a fight clock ticking and purring inside her. The alarm is always set on her fight clock.
We recently went out for a farewell dinner in Astoria. Yes, Blue Mamba, the focus of many posts here over the years, is sadly moving away. Any way, behind where I was seated a family of three came in. The adult male was acting badly and suddenly Blue Mamba's eyes widened and a glint of a smile came to her face. Her claws were coming out. She was on the edge of involvement, but fortunately the woman at the table apologise to the waiter that her husband was bi-polar and they would be leaving. Through the rest of our time there Blue Mamba kept revisiting what had happened at that table, which I couldn't see. I could see she was disappointed that the opportunity to rise up and put up a fight for the underdog mother and son never got to the point where it would have been considered feasible and justifiable. It almost got to that point, but not quite.
I'm sure Blue Mamba went home and dreamed of battle that night. She is a warrior.