It was a Friday night. Me and my best friend, Eric, had been drinking moonshine at a restaurant near the Lynnhaven Mall in Virginia Beach, Virginia. “Purple Thunder From Down Under” is what the bartender called it. It was good stuff. I probably had also been using cannabis, as it was commonplace during my time in security.
Eric and I were leaving a movie and we headed into the bathroom. For some reason, he thought it was a good idea to grab my arm. Instinctually, I grab his arm, twisted it behind his back, put him into the wall, and had a knife to his throat within the matter of a second or so. He yelled, “I submit!”
I backed down. I wasn’t going to hurt him. I didn’t know it was him, initially, but I figured it out once I slammed him into the wall.
The bystanders looked puzzled, but nobody said anything. The accents were probably still fresh enough that they figured we were just two Texas Navy Boys goofing around in an AMC bathroom.
It was an interesting night. I informed Eric that grabbing me from behind was a bad idea, but I think he got it. He never tried it again, thankfully. After all, everyone knows those Houston homies are WAY tougher the the DFW guys…
Wagen, over and out.