Outside the Boxing Club

I walked over to the Luna Taqueria (the burrito place closest to the loft) for a late lunch and was surprised to find it full of tough-looking young guys wearing black T-shirts and close-cropped haircuts. It's usually empty on Saturdays.

"It's the boxing club—they're having fights all day and night," the owner told me. "I wish they'd let me know when they're going to have events like this."

I didn't know about the boxing club, so I asked some of the guys in the restaurant where it was.

"Right over there," one guy told me. "See that big SUV—where the line is? They're on a break now, but the next fight starts at 2:30pm."

"How much is it to get in?" I asked.

"$5."

"Well, that looks like a long line," I said. "Would I be able to see anything if I got in?"

"Probably not," a guy said, who looked pretty tough himself. He had a black eye and was wearing a black T-shirt with a skull on it. "Mostly, if you get in, you stand there and sweat."

"Hmmm—it's probably not for me," I said. They were headed over to the club, so I walked with them. We ran into two other guys who were sparring outside the club.

"There he is," one of the sparring guys said.

"Which one?" his partner said.

"The guy in who just stepped into the street." He looked at me and said, "That's my opponent."

"Ah, well, you look tougher than him, at least to me," I said. "Not that I'd want to fight him, of course!"

He looked me over. "Right," he said.

"Well, anyway...good luck with the fight!" I said.

"See you later," he said, and I left.