Ain't that a kick in the head
This was in late summer of 1980. It was two blocks south of Broadway on Main. I guess about two in the morning. I had been out clubbing. I got off the bus and started walking home. Two guys confront me. One guy was a big guy, and the other guy was about my size.
The big one was the leader. He says I look gay. Am I a fag? I deny. Okay. This starts. These guys were looking for a victim. And I'm it. I know now, I know this: you can't negotiate your way out of this kind of shit. Start fighting immediately or indicate a willingness to hurt and make them believe it. Or start running. Call for help. But no one was around. Or, or, just take your beating.
I'm about 25 years old here. This was before I started boxing. Boxing may or may