High Stakes Encounter

I am a U.S. citizen currently living in Toronto, Canada.

For those who have never been to Toronto, it is often regarded as one of the finer cities in North America if not the world.

The city is booming. In fact, there seems to be a new condo on every street corner daily. But, there are pitfalls to its rapid growth.

Congestion is everywhere and people are suffering.

Mix in the damage of a pandemic, and we are starting to see the costs incurred by human beings.

Addiction is skyrocketing, marriages are imploding, and violent crimes have increased. A simple walk to the grocery store is now an art form.  Trust me, I speak from experience.

Earlier this week, my partner and I went to walk her dog. It’s a nightly ritual and I choose to accompany her even though I struggle to walk.

I am disabled and as a result, walking short distances is a struggle. Love is sacrifice, right? Part of being a man is walking with your lady at night just in case.

Turns out this particular outing was precisely that – just in case.

I am situationally aware, one of those rare breeds who pockets my cell phone as soon as I step foot outside. The world is chaotic and at any given moment, you could find yourself in a flight or fight scenario.

Ten minutes into our ritualized trek, a confrontation presented itself.

My girlfriend and I did not invite it, or anything of the sort. We were simply minding our business.

Spend enough time in a big city and you inevitably end up in an unprovoked confrontation. It is the law of averages – pack millions of people into a small space, and conflict finds you.

A man in his forties walked past us. Something about him had my spidey senses tingling.

The man eyed my girl from head-to-toe as he passed, a common occurrence as “Jill” is cross-culturally attractive.

It wasn’t that he looked that garnered my attention, but the way he did it. Picture an exaggerated smile from ear to ear, accompanied by a demonic cackle.

As we rounded the corner, I turned around, sensing something afoot. The same man fastly approached, his eyes shark-like.

Instinctively, I reached into my pants pocket and took out my keys. I fisted them like a bare-knuckle boxer – the make-shift brass knuckles.

INTERMISSION

We interrupt this program to bring you the following news: The Second Amendment was drafted by our forefathers for a scenario such as the above.

A mentally unhinged individual willing to inflict harm is stopped in seconds when a sovereign citizen with a conceal + carry license brandishes a firearm in self-defence.

Otherwise, one is forced to foolishly clutch onto car keys as a last recourse. Don’t be that fool. Learn to properly own and brandish a firearm.

We now return to our regularly scheduled programming.

The man was under the influence of some mind-altering substance no doubt. I discerned as much due to his erratic behavior and sloppy gait. 

When one walks differently that is not attributable to an underlying health condition, steer clear.

It almost always means drug use is at play.

I barked at Jill to bee-line to the other side of the street. She grabbed her dog and did as instructed. This is when everything went into slow motion.

For those not versed, crisis moments in life slow down. I don’t know why this is the case but anytime I’ve encountered high-stakes moments, things invariably go into slow motion. 

In my twenties, I was in a terrible rollover – much of it I cannot remember but the exact moment my SUV flipped, everything slowed down.

Heart jacked with keys in hand and in a fighting position, I braced for impact.

Growling like a rabid animal, the man swung for my face. I slipped his punch and dove for his chest region. 

Due to my disability, my only chance in a physical confrontation is to get in close and grapple. I wrestled throughout my high school years and have many of those moves in my back pocket.

I toppled him to the ground and got in a mount position. Jill was screaming hysterically from the other side of the street.

A few bystanders stopped to see what the commotion was. In an attempt to alleviate the chokehold I had, the man bit my forearm.  You read that correctly; he bit me.

Moments later, the bystanders jumped in to help.

Jill called the police – I give them credit for how swiftly they showed up. Within three minutes, they were on the scene. We were immediately separated and interviewed. Shortly afterwards, the officers knew I was not the culpable party.

I was asked if I wanted to press charges, but I declined. 

Once my emotions settled, it was obvious the man had enough problems. Homeless, destitute, and addicted for starters.

The cops were gracious enough to drive Jill and me to the nearest hospital. I was administered two shots by a handsome doctor for the bite. 

All would have been avoidable had I been living in America and carrying a licensed firearm.

Politicize gun ownership all you want, however, there is no better deterrent to victimization than owning a firearm.

The media spins guns as toxic. Firearms and gun owners by proxy are depicted as threats to society when it’s the exact opposite.

Look up any crime metric in the world and you’ll notice crime spikes when citizens are unarmed. An alarming statistic you never hear from grandstanders who covet gun reform; guns prevent an estimated 2 million crimes a year.

Even more surprising is that the gun is most often never even fired. Its mere presence serves as a deterrent.

In a recent poll, 60 percent of convicted felons admitted that they avoided committing crimes when they knew the victim was armed. Criminals often back off when they discover their targets are armed.

This brings us full circle to the events I experienced last weekend. Things would never have escalated like they did had I been armed.

If not for a few good Samaritans, I could have ended up with far worse injuries than a bite mark and a visit to the hospital.