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 t