west hollywood catfight

I watched a brawl in the streets yesterday.
A couple of West Hollywood boys engaging roadrage screeched their cars to a halt, jumped out and started throwin' blows.
It was fascinating.
For half a second, I thought, "I should stop this," but immediately I realized that this is what people do. The animal comes to the surface, and sometimes we bleed.
Necessary.
I was surprised by how calm I was in the face of such immediate violence...these men were less than 20 feet from me, and I stood there, with takeout pho in my left hand and my right hand in my coat pocket, watching.
Steady heart rate.
Zero perspiration.
It was like watching monkeys scratch their asses behind glass, only more exciting.
Their shrill voices cattily crying out insults and challenges as one of them pulled off layer after layer in the midst of the fray. Sweater on the ground, bloody t-shirt thrown at a car, belly jigglin' as he scrambled for firm purchase on the pavement.
The other pugilist shot carefully aimed punches and danced nimbly, lisping threats to call the cops.
And like most common street brawls, it was done in less than two minutes. The spirit left the scene, and the two men walked away from one another, got in their cars, and drove off.
Poof.
Humans.