The closest you've come to physical violence, lately?

[VarlosZ]

In college, about 9 years ago, my roommate was being hounded by a (basically homeless) couple he’d met online and taken in. One day I was in the room when he came bounding in with a worried look on his face, and proceeded to hide in the closet. About 20 seconds later there was a banging on the door; I opened it a crack and told the belligerent asshole outside that my roommate wasn’t there, at which point he called me a mean name and tried to force his way in. I managed to get the door closed, and the guy left when I threatened to call the cops.

In retrospect I should have called the cops anyway – a few days later my roommate would lend these people his car, which they promptly stole. He didn’t get it back until a couple months later, when the couple showed up for an unrelated court date in their stolen vehicle.

This is a true story.

[Clothahump]

@Neverender

Thinking about it though, he was at least a foot taller than me, and probably in much better physical shape. It could have turned out nasty for me.
However, and I’m sure at least some Dopers will appreciate this, having done martial arts for over half my life (I’m 20, started TaeKwon Do at 8 years old, and I’ve done Jujitsu, Kobudo and Kickboxing since), I can easily tell when I can ‘handle’ someone. I’m in no way claiming I’m invincible, but there’s a lot to be said for learning how to take a good few hits, and to knowing how to give them back, even if it’s not in the fairest or flashiest way.

There’s a hell of a lot more to be said about displaying courtesy, respect and self-control, which you didn’t.

[Skald_the_Rhymer]

@gonzomax

Why the hell would you do that. If you beat him up, would you feel better? If you hurt him badly ,would you feel worse ? If you did real damage and got sued ,how would you feel about that? What the hell could you possibly have to gain in any part of that scenario?

I’m not the OP, but I’ll answer anyway. Beating people up is unethical, immoral, and immature, and you TOTALLY feel better after you’ve done it.

ETA: This is assuming, of course, that you win the fight and are not arrested afterwards, neither of which is ever certain.

[Neverender]

Hehe, cheers for that, Skald

2 things I must point out

• 1, It seems that in the UK (in my experience), the only time the police get called is if the bouncers get ‘directly’ involved, i.e. it moves from the bouncers just chucking someone out on the curb, to the bouncers having to actually fight them, or if the police are on the beat close to the action anyway.
• 2, the majority of students are straight out of school/college into university, there is a degree of continuation of playground rules! Just for those who find it a bizarre reaction compared to ‘normal’ bar life (which is more likely to be full of either normal respected citizens who wouldn’t call a stranger a dickhead (or respond with a similar call-out), or those likely to be ‘packing’ and call a stranger a dickhead and then proceed to stab/shoot/maim the offender (response or not).

@Clothahump

There’s a hell of a lot more to be said about displaying courtesy, respect and self-control, which you didn’t.

Maybe I’m being childish, but I don’t see why I have to show courtesy or respect to a stranger that’s just insulted me over something as trivial as getting served before him. You got me on the self control though!

But now, we’ve reached the conclusion that I’m a dick when I’m drunk, I think, and can we please move onto the over aspect of my post?

@Neverender

I’m wondering, whats the closest my fellow Dopers have come to violence in the 'recent" past? What happened, and how did you handle it?

[appleciders]

An hour and a half ago, I used the phrase “Felt like shooting him” in reference to my roommate about something that happened two hours before that. Before that, the closest I’ve come to physical violence would be a playground fight when I was 11.

Unless football counts, in which case all bets are off.

[Snarky_Kong]

@tdn

Subtract 5 years and that’s my story.

And that’s why they call it the terrible twos.

[Zeriel]

@tdn

But if you really wanted to fuck with him, “Barmaid, this guy has been waiting longer than I have. Can you get princess here a strawberry colada?”

If I’m ever in this situation, I hope I remember to do this.

[Kingspades]

A couple of years ago I accompanied **Septemberday **to her chiropractor. I go back into the room with her, and it’s a fairly small room. He has her sit in a chair and stands behind her, while I find a comfortable bit of wall about seven feet away to lean against while I wait.

All of a sudden, this guy, who has my wife’s head locked in the crook of his arm, twists suddenly and I hear this deep pop.

A heat radiated from the bottom of my spine all the way up to the top of my scalp, and I involuntarily pushed off the wall and started toward them, completely intent on ripping that man limb from limb. Forget the fact that I’m five foot six and this guy’s built like a linebacker, I wanted to beat the absolute hell out him.

All this happened in the space of about one second before my brain kicked in and told me that everything was okay. I figured sure they’d seen me, but when I told Ember the story a few months ago she was really surprised. It’s the only time I ever remember having such a visceral reaction like that.

[Troy_McClure_SF]

I was making fun of the very douchey bar I was in the other day (it’s next to the ballpark) a little less discreetly than I should have. I was saying something like “their signature drink should be a shot of tequila mixed with a Jaeger bomb, tossed in with a Jell-O shot, blended with ice, and chugged from your dudebrah’s upside down visor.” Then I noticed the people smashed up next to us were doing tequila shots. One of the girls gave me a dirty look, but that was it. Coulda went downhill from there, though.

A few days prior, after the Giants beat the A’s, I yelled at a group of loud A’s fans as they were leaving after the game, “Nice choreography!” (A’s fans have an obnoxious obsession with chants and dances and airhorns.) One of them turned back and responded in a less-than-tongue-in-cheek way “BLOW ME.” Again, coulda went bad, but didn’t.

I’m not a particularly friendly person, I don’t think, but I’m even less interested in being in a fight, so I’ll always try to defuse a situation when I need to. I’m not a mean drunk, either, so that helps, considering how much time I spend in bars, like this one:

So I was bringing a couple new-to-SF friends out for food & drink, so I thought Noe’s/Cybelle’s would hit the spot. We’re sitting along the windows watching the Giants game, and we notice this guy sitting at the bar. And he’s staring at us. Blatantly. I mean, he is literally turned all the way around in his barstool staring at me right in the eyes. Now, this is no big deal to me, but I’m hoping Drunky McDrunkerson isn’t freaking out my friends to much on their first bar experience as residents of San Francisco. Drunky mumbles once in a while, the three of us look at each other and laugh, and we go back to the game. Drunky keeps staring.

After a while, the bartender notices, and she tells him to turn around. He will for a few seconds, and then turn back around to stare. After twenty minutes of this, I go up to the bartender and tell her not to worry too much about it; that we’re not gonna try to start a fight or anything. She says, “Well, that’s cool, but he’s a bit of a loose cannon, and he needs to learn who’s boss here.” Well, fuckinay, you go, girl.

The night bartender comes in, and is briefed on Drunky, and they have a little pow-wow with him. “Turn, around, you’re freaking out other people, yada yada…” He’d been cut off for a while at this point. He was better after this talk, but he would still turn around, dropping a “what did you say?” or “fuck you!”

Eventually, after being told to turn around a few times, the bartender 86’d him, which was a process in itself. After she was trying to kick him out a few minutes, a couple of larger, louder guys from the other end of the bar came over to kick him out. One of 'em looks like he coulda been a baseball player in the early seventies; tall, full of piss and vinegar, and still had a better head of hair than me. They didn’t touch him, which was probably a good idea, and after a good few minutes of “Get the fuck out! Get the fuck out!” he managed to stumble out, told us to go fuck ourselves, and left.

He put the keys into his motorcycle (yeah), wobbled around a bit, and then came back in demanding the keys to his motorcycle. After ten minutes of that, the bartender called the cops. By now a few of the other guys got the baseball player dude away from him, as he was getting toward the point of fighting. A cop car happened by the bar and someone flagged him down, and the cop talked to the drunk for a good twenty minutes outside while the rest of us let out the laughter we’d been holding in for the past hour or two. The cop must’ve told him to chill out for a bit on the sidewalk, which he did, occasionally knocking on the glass of the bar windows, and eventually left.