What to do when angry guy on street yells at you?

I (M38) am posting this in the self-defense forum, even though it's perhaps more related to psychology, self-esteem, social skills, etc. But it's about threat of physical violence – plus, all those other factors play into self-defense, I guess – so here goes.

My apartment building lies at the end of a long, wide, straight street. Yesterday at 10PM, walking home early from the pub, I notice a young man standing in my path. He's yelling at another person walking away from him. At first, I think that that other person is an acquaintance of his, but in hindsight, he's probably just a random passerby.

I'm getting closer to the yeller, and start to take stock of him. He's screaming in a language I don't know a word of, maybe Russian. He seems very angry. He's roughly my size, young, and kind of dangerous-looking, or so I imagine. He's probably drunk or on drugs or both, an assessment I'm making based both of something being off about his stance, and the fact that he keeps yelling the the same words over and over, seemingly to no-one in particular.

When I get close enough for eye contact, he directs his furious gaze at me, making me seem like the target of his endless tirade. I'm the only other person around, so I'm sure it's nothing personal.

Just to be cautious, I go to the other side of the street. There's still a good 100 feet left before I reach my apartment, which is plenty of room to give this nutcase a wide berth and still return afterwards to the side of the road where my apartment lies.

I of course don't know what he wants, but in an attempt to make him leave me alone, I say to him, as I cross the street, some words I assume most Russian-speakers understand: "Sorry, I only speak English. I don't understand. Only English", or something like that. Maybe he's just an innocent guy asking for cigarettes or money or something. If he has any sense and English knowledge, those words ought to be enough.

But it seems like I was trying to put out fire with gasoline, because the screaming doesn't stop, or even slow down or change pitch. What happens, though, is that he starts following me on the other side of the street.

As soon as I realize speaking to him doesn't help, I immediately adopt another strategy: ignore him and don't look at him. But I can hear that he follows me.

Oh shit. What if he follows me all the way to the door? I start to mentally prepare for possible physical confrontation.

At this point, a familiar feeling starts to creep up on me, a feeling that rarely shows its ugly face, one that I find very hard to control once it starts to set in, that diminishes me, and that I loathe: fear.

For a few awful seconds, I walk on, looking straight ahead, the maniac following me, the fear growing with every moment. I try to quell the fear, but can feel it spreading across my chest and limbs. Had I lifted my hand and looked at it at this point, I might have found it shaking. Had I spoken, my voice would likely have trembled.

And then the crazy person stops following me. His screaming dies down. I throw him a glance, and it looks like he's taking a leak against a building some distance away. I get home safely.

Now, I'm the kind of person that has has a hard time shrugging things like these off, and yesterday night was no different. I could feel my pulse being elevated for a while after the incident.

What's worse, I felt, and still feel, like a whimp. I let this guy get to me. I let him decide what part of the street to walk on. I have a couple of years of weightlifting and karate training under my belt and a possible altercation would certainly not have been a guaranteed defeat. A part of me wishes that I had kept walking ahead, not even crossing the street to avoid him. To add insult to injury, my night was awesome until this crap happened, and if not for it, I'd have spent the rest of the night – and this morning – feeling like the king of the world.

And what if I had had other people with me, people who were physically weaker and smaller, who'd have had to rely on me for protection?

So anyway, I just wanted to discuss this slightly traumatic incident with people who probably know a lot about situations like this, and what to make of it.

Was I a whimp? Should I have done things differently? What's a good way to handle situations like this, that minimizes chances of violence and doesn't make me feel, frankly, like less of a man? Maybe I need tips on how to think, rather than how to do.

Thanks in advance!

Submitted December 12, 2021 at 04:36AM by hendrong https://ift.tt/3GB7r9I