Bossnass

It was about 2:30 this morning. I was leaving a club with my fiancee and one of her girlfriends, walking the 100 feet from the doors to the waiting taxi. All three of us were somewhat drunk but certainly not out of control.

We are intercepted by some random guy (assumed to be drunk or high). He makes some crude remark about a 'two-fer-one special on ho's tonight'. I reply with a pretty standard 'fuck off'. He places himself between us and the taxi, so we change our path to walk around him.

At that point, he reaches out and pulls down the front of our friend's top, saying 'let me get a better look at those sweetass titties'.

I shove him away with (less than) appropriate force. Enough to move him out of the way not enough to send him sprawling into the street. I tell the girls to get into the taxi and try to do the same.

The guy comes back and starts doing the whole 'step up routine'. You know: hands out to the side, pushing his chest out, getting in close, in my face. "whatchoo gonna do tough guy? c'mon, whatchoo gonna do!?"

At this point I should note that, for my little northern city, we have had an alarming number of stabbings and shootings at bars and clubs recently. Three or four or five, but that is three or four or five more then the last couple years. While this fact occurred to me at some point, it didn't occur in a timely manner when I was standing on the sidewalk outside of a nightclub with impending violence.

Fueled with drunken chivalry and what seemed like righteous anger, I obliged him. I swung my elbow -since he was too close for a punch- into his face.

Hard. '210+ lbs with (slightly) gorilla-like physique leverage' in a partly upwards arc hard. A 'few years of martial arts training' (years ago) hard. A 'bruised-my elbow black through a leather jacket' hard. Somewhat harder then I ever thought I could and way harder then I ever planned on hitting someone hard.

For half a second, I was triumphant. Then I realized that 'satisfying' meaty crack was actually 'sickening'. Then I realized that if he got up he could have a knife or a gun. Then I realized that I was probably looking at assault charges and everything associated therein. Then I was pulled off my feet.

Well, it was more lifted off my feet. The bouncers from the club had reached us. One had a death grip on each of my biceps. They were half carrying-half dragging me, backwards. At the time, I didn't realize it was them. I suspected I was being taken to the alley to be beat by a group of the interloper's friends. So I gave one a pretty solid headbutt. I imagine it hurt me more then it hurt him. Either way, the back of my head connected with some solid part of him enough for him to loosen his grip. I shook free and then realized what I had done and started apologizing “Oh shit, sorry, I didn't know it was you guys”.

Then he smiled. It scared me. I had no idea what was to happen next.

"Naw, you're alright buddy. We saw it. Just get the fuck out of here and don't come back tonight". They had been taking me the last 20 feet to the cab. They helped me in- albeit a little roughly, but one of them made sure I didn't hit my head on the way in.

The taxi door was closed, the roof slapped, and we were away. The whole incident, I’d guess, took about 30 seconds. The girls had gotten in the car half a second after me. I started to tell the driver my address. He interrupted, in a very helpful, polite, if stereotypical Indian accent. “Oh no sir. Do not be telling me where you are living. Something might have just happened that I do not no anything about. And my friend I do not want to know anything about. So if someone is to be asking me where I took you, all I would be telling them is what corner a couple of blocks away from where you really want to go.” That made enough sense to me. I tipped well.