I spent my Spring Break this year scavenging for jobs in Minneapolis. I don't think I've been rejected that much since freshman year Homecoming... anyways, the real action took place on Friday night.
My friends and I were dipping from a party that the cops busted. I was going downstairs to get my sweatshirt when a large policeman with a bulletproof vest and a nightstick made eye contact with me; I immediately made it a large priority to get out of the house. Keep in mind I was also eight Keystones and a few shots deep, a large amount for a lightweight like myself.
We were about three blocks away when this pack of guys started giving us shit. I'm not exactly sure how it started, but we found out quickly that this group was very drunk and very volatile.
Let me lay out the situation: Our group was composed of myself, my friend Kyle, some random girl, and my friend Mike and his girlfriend. Their group was three drunk black guys ready to fight. I was still trying to size everything up when three more of their buddies pulled up in a white SUV. This is when I knew we were in trouble.
The trio kept yelling things like, "what you tryin' to say?" and "I'll fuckin' kill you, faggot!" (what nice, diplomatic statements!) I was trying to calm down the main assailant when I looked left and saw Kyle get pushed down and cracked across the face. I looked back at my dude and he swung at me, grazing my left cheek. At this point I realized I had backed into a busy street, and was holding up traffic.
No punches were returned, and the trio scampered off yelling a trail of obscenities. Kyle and I limped back to our home base, trying to figure out what exactly happened.
I've had a week to reflect on this incident, and I've decided that I did exactly the right thing. The guys in the SUV could have easily had knifes or guns, which were both things that none of us had. We arguably behaved like pussies, but it was in our best interest.
Oh well. Is every night in Minneapolis going to be like this?
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