Hath given Sir Toby a bloody coxcomb

 After rehearsing Hamlet last night, I was headed to my car in the parking lot across the street. I was slipping out a few minutes early because the crown had given me a headache ("heavy is the head..."), and as I was crossing, I saw a group of 4 young people who just walked past the parking lot.  I did the usual safety assessment.  It was two guys and two girls, and they were chatting.  In my hand I held a tote bag with my heavy metal water bottle, so I had a weapon in the unlikely case I was attacked.  I swung the gate open and heard the group grow silent.  So, I sped up my pace toward my car.

I heard the running of feet on the concrete behind me, and I turned to face them.  There were two young men in hoodies, and I said don't.  The one to my right pulled out a gun (some sort of automatic, with either a silver or grey barrel).  The math in my head changed at that moment.  If I swung on them with my makeshift flail, I would have been shot.  So, I went to my knees I was really expecting to feel a bullet rip through me.  I was waiting for that noise.  But it didn't come.  Instead, one of them punched me in the forehead and told me to give him the keys.  I was screaming for help at this point.  He hit me again in the head.  I didn't really feel any pain.  He was trying to take the keys out of my hand, but I wasn't about to let this little fucker hit me and rob me.  Had he just held the gun in my face and demanded the keys, I would have given them to him.

Because, in that moment when I went into a protective posture, the only thought I had was of my nine-year-old.  My sweetheart who is so pure and filled with joy and love.  She was my only thought for self-preservation.  I didn't want this to be her trauma origin story.  Because, unlike Bruce Wayne, she isn't independently wealthy.  I love my whole family and they were all in my mind, but Ellie was the thing I was living for.

While he was punching me and trying to snatch the keys from my hand, (and I was having these thoughts), the other guy, who must have had the gun yelled at me not to fight and then stomped on my head.  I realized that if I stayed down, he would eventually either knock me out or kill me with his boots to my head.

So, I started to get up screaming "HELP," with all the volume my classically trained instrument could muster with the full intention of not letting my kid lose her dad.  I knew if I swung on them, I would likely be shot, so I just kept them from landing blows to my face and taking them on the skull.  I also had the thought in that moment that you're not supposed to yell for help, but yell "fire" instead, and I considered doing this, but after a few more clumsy attempts at my keys and backpack, they knew that their prey wasn't going down easy and that they were likely going to have cops coming.  (Jokes on them, the cops took over an hour and two calls to 911 to finally get there, apparently annoyed by us).

Anyway, they ran out of the parking lot, I scrambled into my car, and came barreling out of the parking lot. The kids were running across Gaffey and heading back toward Pedro.  One looked back at me.  I didn't really get a good look at either of them, but I'm sure their faces will come back to me in some dreams later on.  There was a moment, when I wanted to swing my car up Gaffey and run him over, but I really just wanted to get it over, so I went careening into the park and up to the bandshell to seek the help of my people.  

The rest of the night was far less exciting.  Steph and Tara insisted I go to the hospital.  Arrangements were made to get my car home.  Annie was asleep, so I left her messages and updates on texts so she wouldn't wake to an empty bed and not have any info.  Tara took me to an ER in Torrance, and when we walked up, I knew it was going to be a shit-show.  Nearly every seat in the waiting room was taken, and they had put chairs in the antechamber leading into the ER between the 2 sliding doors.  

I was quite shaken by the whole thing.  I was grateful to have one of my best friends in the world with me there.  And while Tara was on (Don't let Patrick go home duty), Steph and Peter were getting my car to my place, taking Steph back to her car to then come to the ER and hang with me.  I kept trying to get Tara to go home, but she wouldn't.  I finally convinced her after Steph showed up.  Then I kept trying to get Steph to go home.  It was a very long night.  I got to the ER a little after midnight.  Annie picked me up just before 9 AM.  So, getting jumped by a couple of kids may have been the second worst thing that happened to me that night.  The aftermath saga was far more annoying.

Anyway, I have a broken bone in my thumb.  I think I probably got it defending against a kick.  I have some scrapes and scratches. A couple of bumps on my head.  But, honestly, my kids have caused me more physical damage accidentally than those two little bastards did on purpose.  If it hadn't been for that gun, I would have beaten their asses, because nothing they were doing to me was hurting.  Emotionally, I'm not quite so sound. I'm definitely having some Post Traumatic Stress.  I get unexpected crying jags.  I'm a bit jumpy.

Also, I've never been in that sort of real violence before.  Good to know that I can take a punch.  It will also inform my fight choreography from here on out.  Adrenaline is quite the natural drug.  

I don't really know what this means for the show.  I'm not going back to Pedro unless there is a security or police presence.  Aside from this assault, we have been terrorized for the last week by the local population.  There's this group of biker kids, who roll up on their very loud dirt-bikes and deliberately try to ruin our rehearsals and shows  by buzzing the stage, and by sitting on their bikes and revving them.  They did this all last week, and really made our grand opening a mess.  We also had some dumbass kid jump onstage during tech last week, commandeer a mic and yell "Shakespeare sucks dick."  To which I said, "congratulations," and one of our cast said, "yup he did. Happy pride."  The kid ran off thinking he was being chased.  

So, I'm pretty done with San Pedro.  At least with Pt. Fermin Park.  They won't supply any support, and I thought I would die. 

Anyway, that was my night.  How was your Monday?