Since, by the time we realized what was happening, the aggressor was already in his friend’s car, and the car was starting to pull out of its spot, our first reaction was to let it go, and look to see if the kid was hurt. As we stepped closer to the situation, the drunken scum started hurling insults at the kid again. Then he started opening his door, visibly ready for round two. At this point I walked up to his open window and his whiskey breath and simply said: ‘drive away’. His machismo couldn’t withstand being told what to do, so he clambered out. He was shorter than I expected, or I was taller than he expected, but either way, he saw it as a challenge. “Am I supposed to be afraid because you’re a tall asshole?”. I stayed calm, which any of my friends will tell you doesn’t come easily to me. His eyes were bloodshot, his beard greying. He must have been about 35. He looked mean. The kind of person who regularly hurts those he can. I could feel the adrenaline rushing through every part of me. I was shaking, but determined to stay level-headed.