A Christmas Story (Handgun Holiday)

My friends and I gathered at my parents house after each of our family get-togethers had ended. There is not much to do on Christmas night when you are young. I was old enough to drink and go to bars, but none of my friends could do so, being younger than I. So, we decided to go to Ballast Point Park, off of the Bayshore, where we could hang out without supervision and smoke and drink with no hassle.

It was very dark that Christmas night, and, like most Florida Christmases, pleasantly warm. Upon arriving at the park, we immediately took up residence in the empty and isolated (from the few people on the pier) playground. Jo, Ted, Rats, Kris, her new boyfriend, Micheal, and myself hit the swings and slides to try to have a little fun.

Things had been quite strained between Kris and I, largely because of our recent break-up and because of Rats's manipulation of the situation. The presence of Micheal only added to this stress. As a consequence, our once happy little circle of friends was fragmenting to the point of dissolution.

Anyway, we were enjoying the night and the playground features, and were basically minding our own business. Ted had climbed up the slide and was jumping on the steel floor of the platform, making a rattling bass sound; which was, of course, harmless to the slide itself (there is little that a one hundred sixty pound man can do to half-inch plate steel). However, the noise of his antics reached ears that did find it provocative.

From the darkness, silhouetted by the distant lights, a staggering, cursing shape emerged. As it approached, it became clear that it was some drunken homeless man, a common sight around Tampa. He began shouting at us, something about wasting taxpayers money by using the playground equipment. He told us to get off of the slide and swings, that they weren't for our use; and I complied by stepping toward him in an attempt, as is my tendency, to reason with him and diffuse the situation.

This move was taken as an aggressive act by the homeless man, who pulled a pistol from his pocket and pointed it at me. I stepped closer still, shielding my friends from the possibility of being fired upon.

Several tense minutes of dialog ensued. I used my cunning with words and my inherent charm to ameliorate his concerns and placate his mis-placed anger. He pocketed his pistol and shambled back into the dark. My friends and I promptly fled the scene, somewhat shaken and thrilled by the strange encounter.