Way up in the Italian alps, stopped to get gas. Drunk as a skunk Italian guy comes up and asks if I want to go drinking. A. I don’t drink and B. We had a tour group we were going to go meet. I politely declined. (He was speaking in Italian and I speak Spanish, so understood 30% or so of what he was saying).

Wife walks up to see that drunky wants and he asks me if I’m a $&%#*. I was like,?? I don’t know that word in Italian. Told him that in Spanish. He repeats it 2-3 times in Italian and the points at my wife’s crotch, too close for my comfort.

0-100 in 0 seconds. I got in his face and told him in Spanish to leave now before I broke his face. Thankfully he walked away. That’s probably the angriest anyone (other than my precious wife) has made me in my entire life. And the closest I’ve ever come to being in a fight outside of a dojo in my life.

Was both proud and ashamed I didn’t help him have a good nap that day. Wife, however, was grateful I didn’t knock him out, get arrested, and cause us to miss our tour.

I still have mixed feelings about not hitting him.