This particular Mickey D’s is in a business/industrial district. There are municipal buildings, meatpacking plants, gas stations, motels, hospitals, a county jail, a biosafety level 4 lab and a methadone clinic. It’s located right off an interstate highway where there are people in the lower stratum of our society begging for change... on a regular basis... at the traffic lights.
You can make a quick risk assessment of an urban area when you enter a Mickey D’s if an employee has to press a button to allow you access to the restroom (lavatory). That speaks volumes.
As I entered the Mickey D’s, I saw two young men dressed in urban-type garb at the order counter. They were the size of football tight ends... 6-feet, 5-inches tall and weighing about 260 pounds. They were twin towers. Now... I’m no shrimp at 6-feet 2-inches tall and 240 pounds, but I was feeling dwarfed. The two young men seemed to be having some issues with their order. Of course... I was in condition yellow.
Another young man enters and he was an acquaintance of the twin towers. He was the size of a small forward in basketball, at least 6-feet, 7-inches tall. At this point in time, I started to run my imaginary scenario through my mind.
What if the twin towers became disgruntled customers? What if one of them turned to me and said, “What are you looking at mutha’ f***er?”
While I’m running this through my mind, I’m looking for my escape routes. Avoidance isn’t an option now because I’m in the Mickey D’s, so it’s too late to avoid it. Running (escape) is still an option. If my escape route is cut off by the small forward, I can try de-escalation (dissuasion). I’ll set up my fence and ready my main artillery… for my preemptive strike… before I offer to buy them some number 3’s... large. I’m in condition orange.
They wouldn’t accept my number 3’s... large. They’d rather pummel me in order to vent their frustration with Mickey D’s ineptitude. I’m concerned now, so I’m in condition red.
I know that I don’t want to go to the ground. I love ground fighting at the Krav Maga training center, but I definitely don’t want to do it in this scenario. This is a small Mickey D’s. There’s about a 10-feet distance between the order counter and a partition that separates an eating area. If I ended up on the ground, they’d stomp and kick me to death for sure.
I can’t allow them to circumvent me. I will need to keep them lined up so that I’m dealing with one individual at a time. The 10-feet wide area will assist me with this. Unfortunately, there are no chairs or tables at my disposal to put between my adversaries and me. I’ll have to deliver my preemptive strike with Mike Tyson-like bad intentions and follow up with Krav Maga combatives as necessary.
I’m only 15 feet from the exit door. If I can neutralize the first guy, I’ll use him as a shield as I back my way out the door.
Once I’m outside, I’ll dash back to my office to safety and reinforcements... next-door.
At this particular juncture, the twin towers received their proper order and accepted it pleasantly. They bid farewell to their friend... the small forward... and left Mickey D’s without circumstance.
My imaginary scenario never escalated to condition black.
A McDonalds Team Member let me know that my order was ready, so I picked it up and walked back to my office. Safe in my office and unscathed from my imaginary scenario, I enjoyed my high caloric lunch... a number 3... large.
This is great Curt. I am glad I am not the only one who does this during every-day situations. Thanks again for the thought-provoking posts!
ReplyDeleteThanks Julie. I just want to keep sharp when I'm out and about.
ReplyDelete