My last “fight” occurred in 2000 when a gypsy tried to take my wallet. My husband and I had just exited Gaudi’s beautiful Casa Milà in Barcelona, and my head was so full of architecture that I didn’t bother to button up my coat and hide my kangaroo pouch where I carried my wallet. Several gypsies came over, wanting to “give” us flowers. I suddenly realized something felt funny, looked down to see my open and empty kangaroo pouch, and glanced up to see that one rather tall and imposing gypsy woman had my wallet in her hand! I suppose I should have let her have it . . . but I had an instant nightmare about how difficult it was going to be to replace all my credit cards, ID, etc. So I grabbed her by the lapels of her sweater (although she had to be six inches taller than me), shook her, and screamed, “Give me back my wallet!” Shocked, she dropped it and took off like a rabbit. I probably shook for twenty minutes after that.
I learned . . . to make copies of all your credit cards, ID, etc., and take them along with you when you travel. It’s easier than risking a shiv to the gut. I also learned that I’m meaner than I thought I was. Which is not entirely a bad thing.
Good story.
When I was in college at FSU I was in a restaurant/nightclub with some friends actually 3 guys and they were in the back playing pin ball or something. I was coming back from the ladies room and some drunk guy grabbed my wrist and started pulling me toward the front door.
As I was being pulled along I snagged a Bud bottle off of a table and hit him in the head with it. Problem solved. At that point some other guys were already coming to my assistance and I believe that the drunk received what we euphemistically refer to in the South as an Alabama azz kickin out in the parking lot. :-)
Since then I have managed to avoid fist a cuffs in a public setting.
You scared the ‘Spain’ outta that lady Gypsy.
Shock & Awe.