When I lived in New Orleans in the early 90s, I actually had two occaisons where having a gun might have saved my hide. Once was an angry crackhead telling me he wanted my wallet, I calmly drew as he approached, he saw the gun and turned around and left me alone. I put the gun away, got in the car and drove home where I continued to shake for about half an hour. Scared the crap out of me having to draw. Another time I was getting gas on my way to meet a buddy for duck hunting. I had my camo on, a big sack of decoys in the back of the truck, and my 870 in a case in the back. I was just steady filling, when some guy started at me from across the parking lot, yelling angrily about something. He appeared to be whacked out on crack. As he kept crossing the parking lot toward me, too wahcked out to realize that I was abviously going hunting (so probably had a gun). I unzipped my gun case, and slid some shells in. All I had was BB Steel, but he didnt know any better. When he was about ten feet from the other side of my truck bed, I raised my 870, and politley told him to leave me be. He turned and walked off, cussing me the whole way. I went hunting from there, and once again, took a little while to calm down. I did not like having to raise a gun on someone, but at the same time I was glad that I had that option.
