While we're telling stories....
When I was 17 I was visiting a friend in San Francisco and we got locked out of his house so we were stuck out front in very low light with our thumbs up our rears. Naturally, a group of about six african amercians boys younger then us mayb 15 or 16, had spotted us and was drawing near. Long story short, they made a half circle around us and my friend took off running twords a lighted shool yard, I stayed behind because it was no use, they were too close. I had a knife but it was in my backback at the time and I had to way of reaching it. I played it cool because I really had nothing on me that was very important, change, cell phone, loose papers. They held my arms while another emptied my pockets. They took off almost right away because they thought they scored big with a few folded up 1's. The smallest one stayed behind and demanded my backpack, he had his hand under his shirt over his abdomen as if resting it on a pistol. I told him it was just clothes and he gave me a mean look then ran off to join his buddies. At that time my friend had started walking back who was followed by an old heavy set african american lady who had seen the whole thing and was furiously trying to catch up to the group of hoodlums as if to teach them a lesson with her walking stick. It's a good laugh for me and my friend now-days but at the time I was angry/scared/sad all of the above. I don't wish I had a CCW at the time because I'd probably be serving six consecutive life sentences right now. I'm just glad the punks didnt have a weapon, fists hurt but those wounds heal.
-Dev