Doing Everything Wrong: My Analysis of the events leading up to the blunt object connecting with my skull.

As requested, here’s my analysis of the night A Glock 27 Saved My Stupid Ass in 1996. I mentioned several times in the post that it is my sincere belief that I did everything wrong that I could have possibly done, and even one good choice would have prevented the assault on my cranium and subsequent bleeding. Let’s take a look at the long list of bad choices the 22 year old me made back then.

On a whim one night, I decided to walk down to work to see what the hike would be like and maybe catch up with a couple of friends. I had intentions of walking to and from job as parking in 5 Points is terrible in general and an epic fail if you have to work there.

I had worked in bars in 5 Points for 3 years at that point, witnessing many assaults and calling the police on aggressive homeless vagrant types several times myself. I did not think this out very well. I am walking around in Cooper’s Condition White - unaware, unprepared. Oblivious. I should have been paying attention.

I didn't find any of my friends, and after a couple of beers I hoofed it back up the hill that led to my house. Not a bad hike at all.

It’s late, dark, and I had at least 2 alcoholic beverages in an hour. All of this is fine tailgating for a football game, and might not be a particularly big deal in this case if I wasn’t by myself. Taking into account the history of violence in the area, I should have been in Condition Yellow if not Orange. (Being armed with something other than overconfidence would have been nice too. Practice that Krav Maga kids) I decided to walk home from an area somewhat notorious for aggressive panhandling and muggings. By myself. Guess who’s still in Condition White.

Brilliant.

Let’s examine all of these bad calls.

• It’s late and dark - I should have called a cab or a roommate to make the short trip to pick me up.
• I had 2 or more alcoholic beverages in an hour - alcohol ruins reaction times, promotes a false sense of well being, and impairs judgment. I should have had limited (or eliminated) my alcohol intake knowing that I was going to be walking home.

Almost to my street and displaying a tragic utter disregard for situational awareness, I was caught unawares by a shady looking dude on a BMX bike as he pulled up next to me and asked me if I had change for a twenty.

I displayed a total lack of situational awareness. My memory is too foggy for me to speculate what was running through my mind back then. Probably women or money or how the latter made the former more interested in me. I should have been checking my 6. Instead I get bushwhacked by a lightweight on a kids bike. I realized later at the hospital that if he had been armed with a gun he could have shot me in the back of the head and I never would have seen it coming. For years afterward I got cold sweats thinking about that.

His sudden appearance startled me so that instead of barking at him to stay back, I merely replied "Sorry dude, I've got no cash at all".

It starts getting uglier now. Since he’s already well inside my personal space, I should have immediately faced him, barked a healthy “Stay back!” and circled away until I could put some distance between us. That might have scared him off, or at least given me a few seconds to get into a fighting mindset.

If I had been paying any attention at all, things would likely have not even gotten to this point. But still unbeknownst to me, I was in it.

Instead of watching him take off in the other direction, I confidently crossed the intersection where he had stopped me and made my way up to the next street which was my own.

I all but opened the door for this guy and let him in. Hell, I’d hit me in the back of the head too with this much opportunity! This is what I mean about not making even one good decision (thank you alcohol). I did not choose to confront the bandit until it was already too late and he had and was using the advantages that I had gift-wrapped for him. I should have manned up earlier, or just ran the hell away.

• I was lucky that he was a coward
• I was lucky that I was close to home
• I was lucky that he either did not have a knife or gun or simply did not chose to use one
• I was lucky that I had left my pistol unsafely stored in my vehicle

I continue to be lucky by having a thick skull, but these days I make my own luck by being aware of my location, the nature of my surroundings and living in Condition Yellow (for the most part - I will admit to being vulnerable at tailgating parties and the pool).

Robert mentions in the comments from the original post -

“But you did do two things correctly. You didn't shoot when you didn't have a good shot, and you didn't shoot him in the back which probably would have caused you a lot of grief.”

He’s right - but these choices were made after the attack had already happened. By not taking a shot (or 10) at him as he ran I avoided lots of serious headaches later, but these choices didn’t change the fact that I was all bloody in my front yard.

Edit: I forgot a couple of links. James found the first one below in the comment(s). Thanks James.

A Glock 27 saved my stupid ass in 1996.

After posting my glocklove comment over at his site, Huey asked me about how I once used a firearm to save my life.

I don't think my lifesaving story is too terribly compelling. It's chock full of dumbassery on my part. But here it is, warts and all. Cue the italics.

I was working as a bartender in Columbia, SC and had just moved to a dilapidated old house about 2 blocks up Devine Street (the main drive) from the 5 Points "entertainment district".

On a whim one night, I decided to walk down to work to see what the hike would be like and maybe catch up with a couple of friends. I had intentions of walking to and from job as parking in 5 Points is terrible in general and an epic fail if you have to work there. I understand that this has not changed.

So...I didn't find any of my friends, and after a couple of beers I hoofed it back up the hill that led to my house. Not a bad hike at all.

Almost to my street and displaying a tragic utter disregard for situational awareness, I was caught unawares by a shady looking dude on a BMX bike as he pulled up next to me and asked me if I had change for a twenty.

By shady, I mean all of 5'2 and 125 pounds with crazy hair, a surplus woodland camo jacket 3 sizes too big (this is June in Columbia, SC approximately 112 degrees at 10:30PM) and, of course, sunglasses. At night.

His sudden appearance startled me so that instead of barking at him to stay back, I merely replied "Sorry dude, I've got no cash at all". The truth. And the standard response to the multitude of 5 Points panhandlers.

Here's where I made my 2nd (or 3rd, but there's so many) mistake: Instead of watching him take off in the other direction, I confidently crossed the intersection where he had stopped me and made my way up to the next street which was my own.

As I reached the next corner, I stopped and did (what I now know is) a "Crazy Ivan" to see if he was following me. He had made it about halfway to where I was, stopped his bike and was merely looking at me. Instead of telling him to move along, piss off or get lost (4th mistake) - I decided that I'd be better off confronting him closer to home (soooo young and dumb -at least the 5th mistake if you're counting).

I had my car keys in my pocket and my car was parked about 100 yards away on the right hand side of the street, facing away from me with the drivers side door closest to me. I knew that somewhat unsafely stowed under the drivers seat of my car was my loaded Glock 27.

Foolish young Brian takes a left and walks a bit faster (how many mistakes was that?)...off of the well lit main road and down the poorly lit side street, thinking about the motions that he will have to use to get the car door open. Hands on keys...fingers on car key...take the keys out and put them in the door...open door, leave keys in door and reach for the pistol.

That is what I was thinking when I should have been chasing this guy off.

About halfway there I turn around over my right shoulder to see if he's still following me and WHACK, I'm on my hands and knees in the middle of the street. He's hit me with something, but I have a very large, very hard head and I am not unconscious, but dazed and bleeding profusely. So naturally I begin cussing him.

I cuss him as I get to my feet. I cuss him as I stagger towards my car. I cuss him as I scrape my key up and down the side of the door, trying to get the door unlocked.

He's riding around me in circles, looking around to see if anyone has heard me.

I get the door open (still cussing him) and fall on my knees to dig under the seat for my unsafely stored (in battery too - ugh -sorry SC law) Glock.

I found it and pointed it at him weak handed, but he saw the gun and was already hauling ass back up towards where he hit me (with a @#$% brick, we found out later).

I tried to get a bead on him with the intention of shooting him in the back as he rode away, but fortunately for him I couldn't get a good sight picture due in part to my double vision from the blunt force trauma to my skull.

Rule 4 saved that guys life that night.

That's it really. All of that probably took a minute and a half.

I stuck the Glock in my waistband and staggered up to the porch where I freaked out one of my roommates who was reading a book on the couch by sticking my bleeding head through the front door and asking for some help. She and my other roommates' boyfriend took me to the hospital where they stapled me up. No painkillers because I had those beers earlier. Ouch.

The police never caught the guy. We moved out of the house a couple of months later after getting robbed.

That was 13 years ago this summer. I was very, oh-so-very stupid and very lucky.

I'll never sell that Glock.

Added: I'd like to point out that I did not do even 1 thing correctly as these events transpired. If I had made even 1 better decision this would have never happened. I'll post a list later - I've been uncommonly prolific today.

Glock

Huey's got a great love letter to Gaston Glock's love it or hate it (me=love) polymer and steel implement of self defense. His comments on the Manual of Arms:

"Due to the internal safeties system on their pistols, the manual of arms to operate a Glock is fairly straight forwards. Learning it on one pistol pretty much ensures that it is learned on others in the series. Being a striker fired pistol their is no second strike capability on a bad primer hit, so the tap-rack-bang drill is very important to be learned with Glocks, but this also applies to any semi-auto pistol as well."

That's just one of the reasons that my primary carry gun is a G27 and my "Some Day I Will Compete" Pistol is a G17.

Great post.