The Wrestler

For today's Sunday Storytime, I'm opening the vault and pulling out a tale told a few years ago, while we were in Korea. A friend from that Post e-mailed recently and commented that my egg toss story reminded her of Oktoberfest in the Fall of '04. This made me a bit nastalgic.

And so I present to you an excerpt from a letter I wrote back then, when Gemma was not quite 1 year old and our situation actually felt like a somewhat tough one to endure.

On Saturday, we attended the October Fest, thrown at the Dragon Hill hotel here on Post. The food was really good, served by Korean women dressed in St. Pauly Girl outfits. And this is how it is in Korea: I see something that looks mostly right, but there is some visual cue about some scenes that rings in the back of my mind. And after a few seconds, I snap my fingers and say, “That’s what’s different!” Like, for instance, women who are all of 100 pounds with no curves wearing dresses that hung like drapes on them.

And to see a Korean man in lederhosen? Good stuff. Good stuff, I tell you.

After we ate, the fun began with a women’s arm-wrestling contest. Why not, right? I hoist 23 pounds of curly-haired love all day long, surely I could hold my own.

In the first round, I wrestled a woman in her late 40’s who was very small. My victory was a matter of seconds. I happened to have known her from my Bible study on Wednesdays, and when I saw her there later in the week, I pointed at her and shouted, “I owned you, Sally!”


In the second round, the semi-finals, I wrestled a woman who was at least 5’10” with proportionately long arms. She was also strong, as in, I could see some serious buffitude on her arms. My odds were not so good.

But then I thought back to my basketball days, when our coach used to caution us, “Get your brain in the game and if don’t, you STINK!” and I thought, “Where is the strategy in this game?”

As with so many things in life, it’s in the wrist. And when we matched up, and heard the official say “1 2 3,” I went for her wrist and bent it back immediately. From there, it was easy to get her to the 10 o’clock position.

And from there, nothing was easy. She was so strong. After a minute of standstill at 10 o’clock, the other match had ended, and a small circle of people had gathered closer to watch us. After the second minute of this standstill, the crowd had grown and I sensed an immense Mommy-power-contingent rooting for me. Come to find out, they had asked Bryan my name and organized a loud chant for me.

After the third minute, I considered throwing up. I was squeezing out energy from every single muscle in my body, which seems unlikely since it looks like only the arms are working. Believe me, it’s a full-body work-out.

I decided not to throw up. I decided to breath a little more and, with the huge advantage of her bent wrist and my current lead, decided that I just needed to wait her out.

At which point, people started yelling crazy things such as, “Just DOOOO it!!” And Bryan was piping in a somewhat familiar charge, “Push, Amy!! PUUUUSH!!”

After the 4th minute, I began to consider whether the wait-it-out strategy would work. Maybe “Just Do It” and “Push” would be better. So I tried, friends. I tried to “do” it. I tried to push. But the funny thing about arm wrestling is that there is another person resisting your best efforts. And resist she did. Until this slight fraction of a second, I felt her let up to, what? Re-grip? I wasn’t sure. But I seized upon the moment and launched an offensive and soon enough, I had her to 9 o’clock, just centimeters from defeat.

She somehow held me off. We looked across the table, into each others eyes. I was trying to send her a message, “Just end this. Are you crazy? Do you see what a spectacle we’ve become? Do you really think you’re going to make a comeback?”

And her eyes were saying back to me, “I’m surprised at how much I hate you.”

The 5th minute loomed ahead. The official stated, matter-of-fact, “OK, ladies, you have to end this now,” and with one final exertion I did.

The crowd went wild.

I had conquered tall, long-armed, buff-lady, and though she shook my hand soon after, she did not smile and I knew she suffered mightily to have been bested by one so small, short-armed and un-buff.

The glory was short-lived. The mommies in the audience were still cheering madly, Parin was holding Gemma up so she could “see how cool her mommy is!” and as I reveled in it and stumbled towards the finalists’ table, the fresh-faced, really buff, other finalist sat down with a huge smile. She’d won her two matches in seconds, and now she sat to wrestle me.

But there was no more fight in this dog, friend. I shook my arm a lot, and I sat down, hoping that my opponent did not know about the wrist thing.

She did.

And she beat me in under 3 seconds.

I did win a $15 gift certificate to any of the hotel’s restaurants. Bryan later participated in the nailing contest. The winner of that one was done pounding his 8 nails while every other guy was still holding at least 4 to go. Bryan was the runner-up, and got a $10 certificate. So this wasn’t a bad haul.

Then we strolled to the balcony and watched the Post fireworks display. Gemma was impressed by the sounds and colors. I was a celebrity that evening as people kept congratulating me for my efforts, saying they should have given me time to “rest-up” before the finals.

October Fest in Korea. Who would have guessed?