In broad daylight he was approached by "a member of the Indianapolis Choir Boy School of Good Men Who are Only Down on Their Luck."
He had a hot cup of coffee in his hand, and gun in his pocket. So when said "alter boy" asked for wallet and keys, he made a counter offer.
I politely demurred by hurling a cup of hot Starbucks at him while fishing my Beretta Jetfire out of the stupid pocket holster it was riding in. After taking a face full of Columbia’s most popular legal export and confronted with a counter offer of bullets to his previous barter exchange concept, the young gentlemen decided that discretion was the better part of valor and made all due haste in a westerly direction. For my part, I locked myself in my office, called 911 and waited for the cops to arrive to take my report.Read the whole thing, it isn't that long, and is interesting.
The moral of the story for me anyway is twofold: keep your head up. ... Secondly, as pdb is fond of saying, “carry your f***ing guns, people!”I usually carry something. Step one in my practice is to fling that something at the most immediate threat. A hot cup of coffee is going to really distract someone, while you draw your own weapon. [via Uncle]