Just now.

I was walking up 2nd Ave after dinner with my ladies. Full disclosure: it’s late in the evening and I’ve had a couple of glasses of wine. Side note, I had just bought a Sunday Times to read in the morning (this is inconsequential to the story, I’m just really happy with the decision).

It is bracingly cold out and I’m walking determinedly, hunched over with my hood on, listening to my ipod. I’m looking both diminutive and un-saucy; dwarfed by my giant coat and snow boots.

As I get to St Marks (the douchey part of my walk home), I approach a group of dudes messing around on the sidewalk. As I get closer, the douchiest bro sees an easy target and decides to get all up in my grill, blocking me from walking on.

In one swift motion I yank out my earphones and flip off my hood and proceed to shove him out of my way with both hands whilst hollering “Are you fucking kidding me?”. It was kind of an out of body experience. Like I was watching Kill Bill.

The crazy in my eyes and the red wine teeth so terrified his friends that they frenziedly pull him away and avoid my eye contact.

Seriously, when are people going to learn to stop messing with me?