Think it Through (when you can)
Back in 2002, I had a friend we’ll refer to as “Brandon” crashing on my couch when I lived in Studio City, in the San Fernando Valley just over the hill from Hollywood. Why don’t I use his real name you may ask? Because I lost touch with him long ago, and I wouldn’t want to use his real name unless I was able to run this blog by him beforehand.
Studio City and the immediate neighborhoods were upper middle class. But about 4 miles away was Van Nuys which was home to several hispanic gangs. Now mind you, these factions weren’t as violent as those down in south central Los Angeles by any means, but they were still dangerous. In 1989 I ran the front door to Club Hollywood which was next to Hollywood Live (where the Jimmy Kimmel Show is now), and I had multiple run ins with south central crips and bloods that would come up and go to both clubs. I was shot at a total of five times, in fact. Those gangs were extremely violent.
But back to Studio City in 2002. The Van Nuys gangs were coming over to my neighborhood and the surrounding ones, breaking into cars and often stealing them. My temp roomie, Brandon, had just bought a brand new black Honda Accord Coupe two days prior. While we were watching TV, we heard a distinctive THUMP from the car ports below. My apartment bordered the alley. I looked at him and said, “That was a car door lock being punched in.” He looked at me and said, “No it wasn’t. How would you know that?” “Trust me,” I told him.
I went and grabbed a handgun. Brandon followed me. As we went out through the courtyard towards the back alley, I looked around the corner from the back gate. The alley was clear in both directions. No getaway car in sight. I spun tightly around the wall with my pistol in a low ready, and sure enough, there were two heads facing down, sitting in Brandon's brand new car.
“PUT YOUR HANDS ON THE DASH, NOW! DO IT SLOW!” I yelled as I raised my firearm up a little, but not aimed directly at them. Well, it turned out these two criminals were kids, probably not older than fourteen. Trembling, the kids put their hands on the dashboard. Right then a voice boomed out--
“Hey homes, let’s not be throwing shots back here, huh?” I spun to a 45 degree angle to my right with my pistol pointing in the direction of the voice. Four car spaces away, there was the kids’ “sponsor” standing behind a pimped out old Monte Carlo that was backed into one of the parking spaces. I had made a critical error. I hadn’t thought to look over at the other parking spaces. He could have easily shot at us without warning.
Their sponsor was dressed in typical gang attire, and he was tatted out with cheap ink that was likely done in county jail or prison. Wisely, he kept his hands below his car hood where I couldn’t see them. I thought to myself, “he’s not really armed,” but that was not a chance I was going to take. Brandon just stood there with sort of that deer in the headlights look.
“Come on, homes. We don’t need a shoot out. Just let my boys come over here, and we’ll vanish.”
I looked at the sponsor for a long second, and I felt he was being straight with me. I turned my head a little towards the kids in Brandon’s car but not taking my eyes off their sponsor. “Get out.” Slowly the two kids got out of the car and held their hands out to their sides. They stood there shaking, in between Brandon’s car and mine.
“Come on, he’s not gonna shoot,” their sponsor called over to them.
“I’m not. GO,” I told the kids. Slowly, they stepped out from between the cars. I backed up a couple of feet, but still keeping my pistol aimed down range at their sponsor. As the kids stepped out into the alley, they quickly picked up their pace and then ran to jump into the Monte Carlo. Their sponsor still hadn’t budged, his hands remaining below the hood of his car.
I bent my legs a little to activate my muscles in case I had to jump behind cover. I was not about to put it past the sponsor to start shooting at me, thinking he was going to catch me off guard, if he in fact had a gun. I quietly said to Brandon, “Get behind me.” He quickly did so.
The sponsor and I stood there looking at each other for a long second. He smiled broadly, “We cool, homes?”
“As long as you guys don’t come back here, we are.”
“I’ll put the word out to stay away,” and again, I felt he was being straight with me.
“All right,” I replied.
“All right,” he said back. Then slowly, and never raising his hands so I could see them, he got into his car, then they drove off away from us.
Brandon stepped out from behind me, pissed. “Why did you let them leave?” I didn’t answer right away. I walked over to look into his car. They had just begun trying to open up the steering column. Aside from the destroyed door key hole, there wasn’t much damage. I looked at him, “What did you want me to do?”
“Why didn’t you shoot them?!”
With a laugh I said, “I’m going to shoot a couple of kids because they broke into your car, then shoot another guy, who I don’t even know if he’s armed or not. I’d be the one going to prison.”
I stepped out from between the cars. “Well, why didn’t we hold them here until the police came?” Brandon asked.
“Okay, let’s say we did hold them here. The kids get arrested for breaking into your car. They’re juveniles. They’ll be out tomorrow. Their sponsor decides to come back with some of his real guys. Maybe they steal your car, or maybe they send us a message and just shoot it full of holes. Plus, he knows what we look like, and where we live. Now we’ve got a real potential, recurring problem. Do you want that, I don’t?”
Brandon considered my words. Then, “Yeah okay, but I still have to pay a deductible to get my car fixed.”
“Do you think those guys were going to pay to fix your car if we held them for the police? Besides, I thought you had an alarm on this?”
He realized, “It didn’t go off! It should have gone off, it’s got that impact detection thing.”
“There you go. Take it back to the dealership and make them repair it,” I told him.
As we walked back to my apartment, he asked, “Do you really think they won’t come back?”
“I do. We were straight and respectful to one another.” And do you know what? Nobody’s cars in my complex got broken into or stolen again...
In certain dire situations such as violence, it’s often necessary to act immediately, and worry about the consequences later. But if you have the time and the ability to think about the possible repercussions from your choices of action to take, such as the story I just told you, then think it through.
Now while this was a bit of an extreme example, this goes for other situations such as road rage. That jerk who just cut you off? Is it really worth laying on your horn? Okay, maybe you honked, but do you need to start throwing the middle finger at them as well? No, because now you’re escalating things. That person may be looking for trouble, and may not think twice about pulling a gun and shooting you.
I’m the first to admit, I struggle with road rage, sometimes. Not when it’s just me, but when I have my dogs in the car. At those times, I really need to keep myself in check when someone drives like an ass.
If you’re the one at fault because you looked down at your phone or at your passenger, or you didn’t see the exit you needed to take until the last second, APOLOGIZE. Crack your window enough to put your arm out and wave apologetically! Do not, do not, laugh or ignore the person you just pissed off. People do not like being laughed at or ignored, especially if in their opinion you have just wronged them. If you cut them off, whether it was on purpose or not, you have “wronged” them, so apologize! Again, think through what repercussions your actions may create. Will they improve the outcome, or worsen the situation?
Studying the martial arts can be invaluable in teaching you to achieve a strong, appropriately confident, and calm demeanor. When you’re calm during a stressful situation, you’ll have better mental clarity to make better decisions.
Stay safe,
Geoff Meed
