Monday, March 8, 2010

I hate the city.

My husband and I went and spent the night with a couple of friends Saturday night.

It was going pretty well. We hung out, played video games, laughed, enjoyed People of Walmart, etc.

So friend 1 and us hung out while friends 2 and 3 went out to the bar.

We laughed some more, played more video games, enjoyed some Pablo Francisco, etc.

Then friends 2 and 3 came home.

And I thought they had been hit by a car.

They went out to the bar, had a few drinks, and were walking back home. Six guys drove by and were all staring at them. Friend 2 thought he knew them so he put his hands up (as to say hey, what's up?).
They stopped the car and got out.
All that they remember between the car stopping and hitting the ground is that one of them had a billy club.

Friend 2 had a concussion and some cuts and bruises.
Friend 3 had a concussion, 2 broken teeth, a busted lip, a broken nose, and some other cuts and bruises. And his wallet was missing.

All because these guys thought that my friends had flipped them off.

1 comment:

  1. Wow! I hate stories like these. What on earth has come over people?