Creepiest little spider I've seen in a loooong time.

Not long ago I had a strange episode outside my dojo. The kind of episode that makes you glad real life isn’t like the movies…

It was dark, class was over, everyone was gone. I had stayed behind to talk to my instructor, shoot the breeze, and discuss some of the upcoming karate events.

Once we locked up and left a young man approached us and asked if we were the instructors of this school. I indicated that the taller man to my left was who he was looking for and that was when it began.

Now, if you have read “The Gift of Fear” by Gavin de Becker then you will understand what I mean when I say something inside me told me this kid wasn’t alright. (And if you haven’t read “The Gift of Fear” then I highly suggest you do so immediately). It wasnt just that he approached us and stood too close, wasn’t only the very obvious fact that he was drunk, nor was it, as I suspected and later confirmed, that he was mentally disturbed. There was just something deep inside me, in my “lizard-brain”, that told me to keep both eyes on this kid.

I immediately started to scan him for hidden weapons as he asked my instructor various nonsense questions. I saw no bulges where a gun could be hidden and couldn’t see any knife clip; still, I wasn’t satisfied and casually made my way to the kid’s 9 o’clock so that I’d be at his blindside. I made the effort to kept my gaze ‘soft’ to take in his whole body, but kept my attention on his hands.

We did what we could for the kid; used his phone to call someone to come get him and tried to keep him calm and talking, and my instructor told him a few times that he shouldn’t drink so much. In the end, and to my immense relief, he left us and walked away to darken someone else’s doorstep.

Start to finish, this all took about an hour. During which I was told I didn’t have to stay; and each time I declined to leave. And let me take a step back and tell you that it wasn’t as if I was concerned that my teacher couldn’t take down a drunk, scrawny, 25 year old. But the intoxicated, and the mentally disturbed, are unpredictable.To underscore this, after the kid had left, my instructor turned to me and mentioned that there were a couple moments where the kid was ready to hit me (in response to some of the benign and measured comments and questions I’d made). I didn’t say anything.

I’d noticed, of course. I could see the signs in the way his shoulders tensed, his neck tightened, and his eyes hardened. I’ve never had someone look at me in such a hateful way before and with any luck I’ll remember it next time.

Osu!