I just got back from my daughter's wedding in Texas. Drove down from the Detroit area. It was a 2 day trip each way. Had a great time.
On the way back, I stopped into a McDonald's in a small town in Arkansas. It was maybe 9 PM local time.
I noticed a tall muscular kid standing at the door looking out into the parking lot when I got out of my vehicle. My little internal voice registered him as trouble right away. However, I was hungry and I don't always just drive away at the first sign of trouble. Turned out to be foolish. Should have listened. I usually do. Not this time. You know that voice. I'm sure you hear it too. Situational awareness. Should have listened to it. My fault.
So I opened the door and walked in. Tall muscular dude gives way and I walk past him. The restaurant is nearly empty, but there are about 6 what I would judge to be teenagers in there, hanging out near the drink dispensers, laughing and joking around. Loud. Too loud. I'm keeping them in my peripheral vision. Now I'm thinking I made a mistake, but the damage is done, I'm in the lobby in front of the counter. There are no other customers in the place. I get it - the local toughs have made this an unhappy place to hang out.
I go ahead and make my order. Listening to my inner voice for the first time, I ask for it to go instead of to eat in the restaurant. I'm not going to try to brazen it out, I'm looking for an exit.
About that time, I start hearing huge hooting laughter. Like way loud. I look.
The biggest guy there, maybe 6' 5" or so and very muscular, has managed to get chocolate shake on the seat of his track suit (yes, track suit), like the old Nike things. Guess they're back in style now. It makes it look like he has soiled himself. Everyone is laughing at him. One guy is really laughing hard but he's watching me. He sees me look. He points at me and starts to hoot. "LOOK, EVEN THIS OLD DUDE IS LAUGHING AT YOU!"
Oh. Not good.
Mister Poopy Pants looks up from wiping the back of his track suit and says "I'm fixing to f*#@ you up." His hands make fists. No real heat in his voice, not yet. That's good. He makes eye contact with me. He's looking for something. I know what he's looking for in my face. You do too. You've been there. We all have.
I've got a bag of food, and an empty drink cup. He's standing in front of the drink dispenser. His boys are on all sides and they start to move in towards me. I look over at the restaurant employees - they are suddenly very busy with something else and won't make eye contact. I know where this is going.
...
I put a smile on my face, look Poopy Pants in the eye. "Happens to all of us at one time or another," I say. "No need to get upset, it's all good." I am being 'not a threat' and 'not aggressive' and 'not worth the bother'. That's what I'm doing.
I walk past Poopy Pants and fill my beverage with Diet Coke and ice. I'm now standing behind him, he didn't turn as I went past. I don't think he wants to be a bad guy. He's just big and angry and humiliated and his boys are laughing at him. All I have to do is not be an irritant or a threat or an excuse.
His boys are still hooting, really loud. The guy who tried to point Poopy Pants at me is still making eye contact with me. He wants me to get my butt kicked, he's the instigator. If I have to fight, I know who's getting it first, this guy. He's also the smaller one in the group. He's trying to fit in. He's not quite, so he's trying harder than he should. You know this guy. He's not a jock, but he hangs with jocks and hopes they will accept him. That kind of guy.
My cup is filled, the lid is on, I'm ready to go. Gotta walk past these guys. Nothing for it.
I keep my head up, smile on my face, non-threatening. I make eye contact with Mister Instigator, he with me. I'm telling him as well as I can through my eyes that if the caca hits the fan, he dies. I will go down, but he dies, first and with a quickness. No question that's going to happen. I'm not going after the biggest guy, Mister Poopy Pants, he's acting out because he's humiliated. I'm going after the little guy, the big mouth, the one who started this with me. I want his friends to see me kill him. My car key goes into his eyeball, then I drop the food and the key and grab the chair next to him. That goes into his brain housing group, as hard as I can swing it. And those McDonald's chairs are heavy. I'll hit him as many times as I can.
I'm checking out the chairs as I go. Can be used for weapons? Yep. Floor? Wet-ish tile. Slippery but my footing seems OK. They're all wearing these slick nylon style hoodies. Those get pulled over the top hockey fight style if I can manage it. Might get one or two that way, give me a second of confusion to run. I might go for the door, or I might vault the front counter and look for something dangerous to use as a weapon back there. Dunno. Are these guys armed? I can't tell, but they don't favor any side or have hands covering anything they might be wanting to protect. I'm thinking if they have any weapons, they're in their cars. Like me.
I've got my drink and bag of food in my left hand, I'm a rightie. Got my car key in my right. It's just the new-fangled style of one key with a fob that works like a switchblade kind of thing. I will sink it in a neck or eyeball if I can.
I press the button on the key fob for the car horn. It starts going off. Their heads whip around into the parking lot. My car is faced towards the door, the headlights are blinking. I walk past the group and out the door. I'm looking at my key fob like I'm just a doddering old man, made a mistake, hit the wrong button is all. Nothing to see here. Keep moving. I'm out the door.
I walk towards my car, hit the button again and the engine starts, lights and horn stop. I am listening as I walk. Not going to turn around. Just listening as I walk. Can't hear a thing. Severe pucker factor, but I think I'm good. There's no bravado, no rush, in going out into the parking lot after an old man who didn't threaten them in any way. They missed their shot to encircle me, push up their courage, and eventually take a poke at me in the restaurant for some imagined slight.
I get in the car. Seat belt on. Food down. Put car in gear.
I leave quietly, slowly, normally.
I pulled over at the next exit, which happened to be the state welcome center rest stop. I ate in the cab of my car.
Self defense? Yep. Exciting? Nope. But there it is.
...
On the way back, I stopped into a McDonald's in a small town in Arkansas. It was maybe 9 PM local time.
I noticed a tall muscular kid standing at the door looking out into the parking lot when I got out of my vehicle. My little internal voice registered him as trouble right away. However, I was hungry and I don't always just drive away at the first sign of trouble. Turned out to be foolish. Should have listened. I usually do. Not this time. You know that voice. I'm sure you hear it too. Situational awareness. Should have listened to it. My fault.
So I opened the door and walked in. Tall muscular dude gives way and I walk past him. The restaurant is nearly empty, but there are about 6 what I would judge to be teenagers in there, hanging out near the drink dispensers, laughing and joking around. Loud. Too loud. I'm keeping them in my peripheral vision. Now I'm thinking I made a mistake, but the damage is done, I'm in the lobby in front of the counter. There are no other customers in the place. I get it - the local toughs have made this an unhappy place to hang out.
I go ahead and make my order. Listening to my inner voice for the first time, I ask for it to go instead of to eat in the restaurant. I'm not going to try to brazen it out, I'm looking for an exit.
About that time, I start hearing huge hooting laughter. Like way loud. I look.
The biggest guy there, maybe 6' 5" or so and very muscular, has managed to get chocolate shake on the seat of his track suit (yes, track suit), like the old Nike things. Guess they're back in style now. It makes it look like he has soiled himself. Everyone is laughing at him. One guy is really laughing hard but he's watching me. He sees me look. He points at me and starts to hoot. "LOOK, EVEN THIS OLD DUDE IS LAUGHING AT YOU!"
Oh. Not good.
Mister Poopy Pants looks up from wiping the back of his track suit and says "I'm fixing to f*#@ you up." His hands make fists. No real heat in his voice, not yet. That's good. He makes eye contact with me. He's looking for something. I know what he's looking for in my face. You do too. You've been there. We all have.
I've got a bag of food, and an empty drink cup. He's standing in front of the drink dispenser. His boys are on all sides and they start to move in towards me. I look over at the restaurant employees - they are suddenly very busy with something else and won't make eye contact. I know where this is going.
...
I put a smile on my face, look Poopy Pants in the eye. "Happens to all of us at one time or another," I say. "No need to get upset, it's all good." I am being 'not a threat' and 'not aggressive' and 'not worth the bother'. That's what I'm doing.
I walk past Poopy Pants and fill my beverage with Diet Coke and ice. I'm now standing behind him, he didn't turn as I went past. I don't think he wants to be a bad guy. He's just big and angry and humiliated and his boys are laughing at him. All I have to do is not be an irritant or a threat or an excuse.
His boys are still hooting, really loud. The guy who tried to point Poopy Pants at me is still making eye contact with me. He wants me to get my butt kicked, he's the instigator. If I have to fight, I know who's getting it first, this guy. He's also the smaller one in the group. He's trying to fit in. He's not quite, so he's trying harder than he should. You know this guy. He's not a jock, but he hangs with jocks and hopes they will accept him. That kind of guy.
My cup is filled, the lid is on, I'm ready to go. Gotta walk past these guys. Nothing for it.
I keep my head up, smile on my face, non-threatening. I make eye contact with Mister Instigator, he with me. I'm telling him as well as I can through my eyes that if the caca hits the fan, he dies. I will go down, but he dies, first and with a quickness. No question that's going to happen. I'm not going after the biggest guy, Mister Poopy Pants, he's acting out because he's humiliated. I'm going after the little guy, the big mouth, the one who started this with me. I want his friends to see me kill him. My car key goes into his eyeball, then I drop the food and the key and grab the chair next to him. That goes into his brain housing group, as hard as I can swing it. And those McDonald's chairs are heavy. I'll hit him as many times as I can.
I'm checking out the chairs as I go. Can be used for weapons? Yep. Floor? Wet-ish tile. Slippery but my footing seems OK. They're all wearing these slick nylon style hoodies. Those get pulled over the top hockey fight style if I can manage it. Might get one or two that way, give me a second of confusion to run. I might go for the door, or I might vault the front counter and look for something dangerous to use as a weapon back there. Dunno. Are these guys armed? I can't tell, but they don't favor any side or have hands covering anything they might be wanting to protect. I'm thinking if they have any weapons, they're in their cars. Like me.
I've got my drink and bag of food in my left hand, I'm a rightie. Got my car key in my right. It's just the new-fangled style of one key with a fob that works like a switchblade kind of thing. I will sink it in a neck or eyeball if I can.
I press the button on the key fob for the car horn. It starts going off. Their heads whip around into the parking lot. My car is faced towards the door, the headlights are blinking. I walk past the group and out the door. I'm looking at my key fob like I'm just a doddering old man, made a mistake, hit the wrong button is all. Nothing to see here. Keep moving. I'm out the door.
I walk towards my car, hit the button again and the engine starts, lights and horn stop. I am listening as I walk. Not going to turn around. Just listening as I walk. Can't hear a thing. Severe pucker factor, but I think I'm good. There's no bravado, no rush, in going out into the parking lot after an old man who didn't threaten them in any way. They missed their shot to encircle me, push up their courage, and eventually take a poke at me in the restaurant for some imagined slight.
I get in the car. Seat belt on. Food down. Put car in gear.
I leave quietly, slowly, normally.
I pulled over at the next exit, which happened to be the state welcome center rest stop. I ate in the cab of my car.
Self defense? Yep. Exciting? Nope. But there it is.
...