Porta Potty Punks
Last summer, I was at this big inner city festival drinking, eating, singing with my friends, and having a great time. I had to go and take a leak. For some stupid reason, the festival organizers had put the porta potties in a dark back alley. It was getting a bit dark out. When I was done, I froze in my tracks—five shady guys stepped out of the shadows as soon as I got on my bike.
They stood in a semi-circle about 15 feet away from me. One of the guys walked up to me and said, “Gimme your wallet and phone, and nobody gets hurt”. I had never been in a fight, nor had I ever punched anything in my whole life. As soon as the guy was right next to me, I punched him as hard as I could right in the face, somewhere between the mouth and nose.
He fell over, and I started biking away from there as fast as I could. About five minutes later, when I caught up with my friends, I looked down at my hand and I was shocked—It was fully covered in blood. I even found something that looked like a part of a front tooth wedged between my knuckles. All I could think of was, “What on earth did I just do”?!