What Comes Over Me?

I've been told numerous times that I need to call for back up before engaging in a confrontation but I have a trigger response and no time to call. It's a good thing I'm not a cop because I don't evaluate the environment, I don't judge the size and distance of a threat, I just react...

Karen and I met at Las Brisas tonight for Margaritas and tacos. She and I haven't sat down for a good old-fashioned girlfriend chat in far too long. We were sharing stories and laughing at each other's situations when, out of the corner of my eye, I saw a young man throw a punch at his woman and knock her glass right out of her hand and across the table and onto the floor. Before I knew it, I was out of my seat at the edge of his booth, two rows away. She was asking him to let her out of the booth but he wouldn't move. There were five people sitting there and nobody was moving. I leaned into him and said, "Let her out." Where do I get my balls? This isn't the first time, by any means, that I've jumped into a volatile situation without regard for my safety. Believe me. My daughter could tell you stories, in fact, I think I may just share them with you here, because, dammit, we all have to step up when it's needed. He hit her and just sat there like he was the big man and she was just going to have to take it. ...well....he looked up at me and said, "Who the hell are you?" I leaned in further and whispered, "I'm the cops in about five minutes. Let her out." As I held his attention, she climbed over the seat and got away. I followed her out the door to the parking lot. I hugged her as she cried and I said, "Get away from these people." She got into her car and as far as I know she went home. As far as I was concerned the drama was over. I went back into the restaurant, sat down in my seat and resumed my conversation, as if nothing had happened. However, one of the people in the booth was the mother of the punk who threw the punch. She approached our table and said I should mind my own business, which is what these people always say. "Mind your own business." My answer to that is always the same, "This is my business. This is my restaurant, my neighborhood, my community, my space and you're in it. Therefore, you made it my business." She made a mistake. She put her hands on me. Nobody ever thinks I'm the kind of person who would say "boo" but...they're wrong. I reached for her arm and ended up with a handful of sweatshirt and I held on. She yelled, "I'm calling the police." Karen and I both said, "Good, call them. We'd love to tell them what went on here." Her son, the abuser, came in and retrived her and dragged her out.

These people think they are immune to anyone responding. Everyone is so afraid of getting involved. Frankly, I don't give a damn. Right is right and wrong is wrong. If you want to act like a dick and I'm there, you're going to have to hear about it from me. That's just who I am.