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A few nights ago, I had dinner out with a couple of friends. While we were sharing parting words on the underground platform, a drunk guy approaches us. Making a mostly unintelligible comment about one of my friend and I wearing hats.
I decide to ignore him, when, out of the corner of my eye, I see something reaching for my hat. I raise my hand to hold onto my hat while I turn around, and sure enough, it's the drunk guy. I give him the Death Glare.
He has a very thick accent, reeks of cheap booze and mostly mumbles. The disctinctive smell of cold ashtrays subtly underlines his Eau de Booze cologne. He makes another mostly unintelligible comment about my hat, while he's reaching for it again. I step back, telling him to back off, still holding onto my hat.
He looks at me angrily, like I've insulted him by trying to keep him out of my personal space and trying to take my belongings without my permission. He then says "You give me that", pointing to my hat, "and I give you this", pointing to his worn-out Raiders cap. To say that this cap had seen better days would be understating an understatement: it looked like it had been decades since this cap had seen a better day.
I reply to his offer with a very sharp "No". He looks at me as if I had just insulted his mother and and gloated about how I liked to kick puppies. He still asks, "You won't give it to me?" in the most offended tone. Again, I reply "No", and look at him defiantly.
For a split second, I wonder if he's going to try and punch me. But he finally says "I have plenty like those", and strides away with a smug look on his face, as if he had won a most epic battle of wits.
I was still furious about this when I arrived home, about half an hour later. I'm really happy he didn't try anything silly, though. On an underground platform, it would have gotten ugly.
I decide to ignore him, when, out of the corner of my eye, I see something reaching for my hat. I raise my hand to hold onto my hat while I turn around, and sure enough, it's the drunk guy. I give him the Death Glare.
He has a very thick accent, reeks of cheap booze and mostly mumbles. The disctinctive smell of cold ashtrays subtly underlines his Eau de Booze cologne. He makes another mostly unintelligible comment about my hat, while he's reaching for it again. I step back, telling him to back off, still holding onto my hat.
He looks at me angrily, like I've insulted him by trying to keep him out of my personal space and trying to take my belongings without my permission. He then says "You give me that", pointing to my hat, "and I give you this", pointing to his worn-out Raiders cap. To say that this cap had seen better days would be understating an understatement: it looked like it had been decades since this cap had seen a better day.
I reply to his offer with a very sharp "No". He looks at me as if I had just insulted his mother and and gloated about how I liked to kick puppies. He still asks, "You won't give it to me?" in the most offended tone. Again, I reply "No", and look at him defiantly.
For a split second, I wonder if he's going to try and punch me. But he finally says "I have plenty like those", and strides away with a smug look on his face, as if he had won a most epic battle of wits.
I was still furious about this when I arrived home, about half an hour later. I'm really happy he didn't try anything silly, though. On an underground platform, it would have gotten ugly.
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