4.7.09
This is all absolutely goddamn true.
Coming back into my job after my lunch break, I approached the swinging doors in the vestibule that lead me into the hallway outside the security office, in which I work.
I reached the doors and pulled the left one open.
A short man with his head down came barreling out and ran right into my chest.
I said, "Excuse m-" then I felt something hit my stomach.
A man behind this punchy little fellow said,"Whoa, whoa, calm down man!"
It was right around then I realized that this fucking cunt rag had punched me!
Punched!
ME!
I was SO utterly SHOCKED!
No one has consciously tried to punch me since the 4th grade so I was literally standing there gape-mouthed while this scrappy thing was slowly backing away (I don't think he had seen who he'd hit as his head was down and he may have, just then, noticed that he'd struck a guy two and a half times his size).
I said, "What the fuck?!" more out of genuine puzzlement that belligerence.
"Got in my WAY, man..." he reasonably explained.
Then Sergeant Mann came into the vestibule and told him to get the fuck out.
I asked Sarge who this guy was as we went back inside.
He told me he was a crackhead who had come in with his friend to smoke crack in the bathroom.
He'd noticed that they looked...well, like actual crackheads, people addicted to crack, and told them they could use the bathroom if they left their coats and bags at the security station.
They had agreed and went to the bathroom.
The Sergeant, having a pretty clear idea that they were, indeed, going to try to use drugs in the bathroom, stood outside the door and overhead the short, scrappy gentleman asking, in Spanish, for the stuff.
The other one said it was in the bags that they'd left at the security station.
You see the problem?
So, apparently, I had just walked in as Sarge told them they'd have to leave.
I then asked Sarge if he saw that guy hit my in the gut.
His eyes widened.
"When?!"
"Just now. The little fucker."
"Why didn't you tell me then?!"
"Why? What were you going to do?"
"Kick his punk ass!"
Then came the lengthy discussion about what I should have done: taken him apart, pretended to fall down and get hurt thus getting paid disability or receiving compensation from the Hospital, restraining him while the police were called (since the Sarge knew these guys had drugs on them that would have been pretty detrimental I'd imagine), a combination of all three and a variety of other ploys and tactics.
Oh, to have those 30 seconds back.
I am still, three hours later, just shocked.
This chickenhead little cocksucker!
Hitting me!
Man.
I must say my general good feeling towards the crackhead community has greatly been reduced.
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