People Share Their Best 'I've Messed With The Wrong Person' Moment.
Sometimes we think we are invincible and that we can do no wrong because we make wise choices and execute them confidently. But every once in a while we say or do something and have that "Oh crap" moment in our stomach because, you've guessed it, we're not as invincible as we initially thought.
People on Reddit were asked: "What's your best 'I've messed with the wrong person' moment?" These are some of the best answers.
Note: Comments may have been edited for clarity
This bouncer had not long started work and was sent by his security agency to cover a shift in Merthyr Tydfil (I've not been but heard it's quite a rough area) and during the night, the head doorman refused entry to a guy for being too drunk and for being involved in an incident at a different nightclub a few weeks prior. The drunk dude began to get all up in the head doorman's face threatening to come back with "The boys".
This is usually quite an empty threat - normally a drunk dude gets all angry for a bit and then walks away/moved on by the police. In this instance the guy walked away and the new bouncer who was covering thought the issue had passed.
30 minutes later the drunk guy returns with 15 of his friends, marching down the road "like a scene from green street/football factory". The new bouncer is watching these guys approach with the head doorman thinking "We're going to be in a spot of trouble here."
He sees the head doorman reach inside his coat pocket. "Holy does he have a weapon or something?!"
The head doorman produces a gumshield from his pocket, puts it in his mouth and limbers up his neck and cracks his knuckles all in complete silence and calm. The lads approaching see this and pause before one shouts "nah" and they all scatter. The new bouncer asked not to be sent there on cover again.
When I was 20, we were in a DCA drum corps for the summer, on our way to a show in PA or something. We had stopped to eat. While we were there, a group of bikers (obviously part of a club) came in and sat behind us. My friend decided to try to hit me with his straw paper. His attempt went right past me and hit a biker in the back of the head. We go dead silent, waiting for a reaction. Nothing. We let out a deep sigh of relief and continue eating.
As we are heading out the door, my friend decides to use the bathroom. I wait for him on the bus. A few minutes later he comes flying out, red faced and looking terrified.
Apparently, a biker had met him in the bathroom, cornered him and explained "I'm the nice kind of biker, so I'm going to let you off with a warning, but be aware that many bikers would be kicking your butt right now. Get out of here"
That was the end of shooting straw paper.
As an arrogant 14 year old, I was at a recreational place with a lot of trampolines. I was in the dodgeball section and I told a twenty something man that was "the number one person on my people to get out list". This man was put on the other team and he was a very athletic man. He proceeded to hurl these rubber dodgeballs at what seemed like the speed of sound as he eliminated my entire team three games in a row, saving me for last each game. Every time he got me alone he hit me in the penis in front of all my friends. I should not have messed with him.
At work I had a chess board and would play with various people during lunch. None of us were particularly great or anything, it was just a fun diversion. One day one of my co-workers came up, an older woman who was always very sweet and quiet, and asked if I wanted to play a game.
She destroyed me. Like, it wasn't even a close game. Towards the end I would make a move and she would just say, in the sweetest tone possible, "Oh, are you sure you want to make that move?"
Turned out she had actually competed in some chess tournaments when she was younger, and both of her sons were active competitors.
I was outside of a bar, late in a night of drinking, on a friends last night in town.
Now, this bar has a door that doesn't close behind you, it was cold, and I was sick of people just leaving it open while they stood there and smoked. Finally I snapped at some dude and I drunkenly go, "Hey man, there are only two kinds of people in this world. People who check to make sure a door is shut for the benefit of others, and jerks like you who just expect that to shut behind their entitled butt."
Guy reaches into his pocket. Tells me I should really think about messing with him annndddddd my friend pulls me away while I curse at him. She then tells me that he is her friend's coke dealer, had just gotten out of jail, and probably had a gun.
Ya. Bought him a cheap beer and got out of there.
It was my sophomore year of high school. I was walking across the parking lot after school, on the way to my friends car, when another students car comes down one of the aisles and almost hits me. They start honking at me, like it's my fault, so I flip them off and keep walking. They chased me down three or four aisles as I just keep casually walking across the lot. When the finally catch up to me, this guy I go to school with jumps out, ready to kill me. This is the guy in school who has been transferred like ten times because he gets kicked out of every school, deals drugs, gets suspended every other day for beating someone up, etc.
So I start apologizing, I don't want any part of this dude. I know the type of people you can and can't start stuff with, and this guy is one of them. Somehow, I talk myself out of the beating I had coming and take off with my friends. What I didn't know was that this guy had been expelled that day, and that night, he shot a guy in the face and killed him at a party. Glad I didn't decide to be my usual smart self that day.
When I was younger, my family would go rafting with a couple other families down a very calm river. People would often bring some kind of squirt guns, and people would try and fire at people in other rafts. Everyone on the river did this.
Well, one time we were floating by a very large group (at least 40+). They had all their rafts tied together, which were all covered by towels. We thought, "Oh boy, we should get them! Look how many people there are! This will be epic!" Mind you, this is 9-year-old mentality. Then, we issued the first strike.
This is where things went wrong. They shouted, "I wouldn't do that!" We had heard this before; an opposing raft issuing mild threats to get us to not fire our Tinker Toys squirt guns. Hence, we continued. Another warning, "I really wouldn't do that!" The measly firing ensued. Then a loud, "You've really done it now!" And this is when I thought, "I messed with the wrong person".
Suddenly, the sound of a generator came across the river. The group of 40+ unveiled all of the towels, only to display they had a fire hose. The pressure from the fire hose was insurmountable, and could easily reach the other side of the river. Our entire group was heavily doused in a matter of seconds. Needless to say, the squirt gun game ended quickly.
In 7th grade I grew from 5ft 2in to 5ft 9in within a span of 8 months. I went from being of average height to looking over the heads of 85% of my classmates.
Never really got picked on, but now I had a sudden confidence that I could take on anyone that messed with me and I was, for the most part, correct.
One day my older brother (whom is seven years my senior, but only 5ft 8in) and I got into it and I finally physically stood up to him. I took a full fledged swing with all of my weight in it. Didn't phase him, he just got mad.
He put me in a full Nelson, slammed me into the hallway wall face first, then proceeded to use his chin to dig it into my neck for near a minute. I was crying and almost passed out.
Right after my swing I distinctly remember thinking, "He's going to murder me in our parents basement".
I was travelling home to Washington DC from a European vacation with my girlfriend. We flew from Barcelona to Detroit and hopped on a plane in Detroit to take us back to Baltimore/Washington International Airport. Weary after hours of flying, I got on the plane only to see that the family in the row in front of me had a young (10 or so) girl who was playing an iPhone game at full volume without headphones. Her mom was sitting in the aisle. At this point, a poorly timed fart would have made me lose it so I inhale to get ready to unleash a tirade somewhere along the lines of "OH SO YOU CAN JUST LET YOUR DAUGHTER LISTEN TO HER GAME OUT LOUD? OH SURE, WHY DON'T I BLAST SOME TUPAC SHAKUR FOR YOU TO ENJOY?"
I get roughly half of a phoneme out of my mouth when something catches my eye. The dad, sitting in the window seat looking out the window, has three Chinese symbols tattooed on his head. My first thought was "Okay maybe I shouldn't mess with these people" immediately followed by the most fan boy moment of my 25 year old life. "OH...OH MAN...HEY CHUCK!" It was former UFC light heavyweight champ Chuck Liddell. He was travelling to Baltimore to attend a fight. I said something about seeing him at the fight on Saturday then let my ears bleed to the sound of Candy Crush for the entirety of the flight.
I would like to preface this with the fact that up until this point I was a bully. I was 14 and at a summer camp. There was this Russian kid who attended who had lived here for a year with family to go to school. Since he was a foreigner I immediately singled him out and started picking on him. This went on for about two weeks with me mocking him in Russian accent, making jokes about Russians and generally just being a little jerk. Then one day he had enough. He picked a fight with me and I'd thought I would have easily one since I had almost a foot on the guy.
I go in for a punch and he ducks, grabs my arm and throws me over him onto the ground. Breaking my arm in the process. I started crying. I was then taken to the hospital. I went back to camp and I was forced to apologize to the kid and I did. We ended up being friends and he tells me that his dad runs a jujitsu gym in St. Petersburg and is a former Spetznaz soldier. He wasn't the kind to boast so I believed him. He told me his dad trained him in jujitsu for most of his life.
That day I learned you probably shouldn't mess with strangers because you have no idea what they are capable of. Every one should get their butt kicked at least once in their life so they know this.
We were in a traffic jam. A car was trying to force his way in front of us (they rode up on the shoulder and then wanted into our lane), but my husband was feeling surly and not letting the car in. They forced their way in, so my husband laid on the horn and yelled.
Three guys hopped out of the car. The driver had a baseball bat. I screamed out the window that we were sorry. They yelled at my husband to get out of the car. My husband apologized and they called him some names and then went back to their car. We then had to sit in traffic behind them for the next 20 minutes.
I was a college freshman and had a bad week. It's no excuse for my behavior. I thought I was pretty tough as I've taken martial arts most of my life.
There was a girl who played on the softball team and was much larger than me that I'd bumped into walking through. She said "Hey sorry man." I, like a confrontational idiot, said "Yeah you better be sorry." She turned around and said "Excuse me?"
I responded by pushing her. She grabbed me by my collar and slammed me against the wall. At this point, the more rational part of my brain said I should apologize and walk away but I wasn't rational and I broke free with a cheap shot kick to her chest.
Time and time again I basically pounced at her to attack and she knocked me to the ground. Finally she pinned me and told me "Dude that's enough, calm down."
I finally relented but not after basically getting my butt kicked. She told me I was feisty thing (I'm 5'5" and was 140 lbs at the time. She was 5'9" 180 lbs) and my friend apologized that I was having a bad day and never act like that. The girl and I talked later that night and became decent friends.
It was then I learned you can't take your attitude on people because they may just give you an adjustment.
We're from Ireland, but now my brother lives in Boston with his fiance. I flew to Boston to visit for a couple of weeks, and we decided to go downtown one night to hit the bar scene. It was me, my brother and his fiance.
Anyways, we're standing in line when all of a sudden a guy pushes through us and takes a spot right in front of us. He was wearing a military uniform - Navy I think? Although I'm not 100% sure. My brother's fiance fell to the floor because of this guy, and all he did was look over his shoulder and snigger after he did it. Naturally, my brother confronted him but was met with various insults that was ended with something like "You see this uniform, guy?"
So yeah, it's an understatement to say that my brother has a sharp temper.
After a few seconds, my brother stuck his boot into the side of the guys knee, which caused him to fall towards the floor. As he was falling, he was caught with a serious right hook which in turn, knocked unconscious. I don't know what happened after that as we had to leave the area sharpish.
My wife and I were at a punk show at a small venue downtown. It was kind of a weird lineup. There was a gutter punk band, a street punk band and an Irish folk/punk band playing. Kind of a strange mix of people. Anyway we're outside while I was smoking and watched as 4 gutter punk kids step out the door and spit right in the face of this Irish guy who was just minding his own business. He shouts something like "What the hell!" and the gutter punks surround him.
People could see this was going to be bad so the crowd starts to step in to intercede when the Irish guy puts his fists up like he's a boxer from 1900. It looked almost ridiculous and I thought for sure this guy was going to have a bad night.
He lashed out and dropped one of the gutter punks in one hit before they closed on him. One of the remaining 3 got a solid punch into his face, bloodying his nose. The Irish guy returned the favor with a wicked punch to the stomach that dropped the kid to his knees. The remaining two tried to grapple with the guy and one of them got thrown through the plate glass window to the venue. Police showed up and after questioning people in the crowd they arrested the 4 punks who started it and let the Irish guy go. Venue even let him back in despite the broken window.
The whole fight lasted maybe 5 or 10 seconds.
This kind of short guy showed me what a bad idea it can be to judge a book by its cover.
When I was 20 I tried to mess with my father. I'd been taking martial arts for a few years and figured I could get my father in an arm lock. I'm 6 foot 5 and 250 pounds while my father was 5inches shorter and around 40 pounds lighter so I figured how hard could it be.
Well he was in the kitchen so I started to try and get him into a lock when he decided his youngest son needed to be shown who was in charge. He grabbed a hold of my hand and just crushed my fingers in his grip. I was wearing a ring and the feeling my my fingers crushing together in his grip made my mind blank and I quickly remembered that, while my father had no fight training, he did spend most of his life on a farm wrangling oxen and so had an iron grip. Needless to say I tried not to cross him after that.
I was pretty young (14-16 ish) and I had a bit of a reputation for fighting. Just schoolyard stuff, nothing real. But I was out late one night being a hooligan with some buddies who worked at a popular burger place, and we got hungry. So we head that way to cash in on their employee discounts, and there's this little man standing out front, sweeping I think.
He looked about 40 and pretty haggard, I'm talking thin, hunched over, wispy moustache, glasses, about a foot shorter than me. My friend says "This is Moon Su" (something like that, definitely had Moon in it) "and he could kick all of our butts." Now he said this directly at me, intentionally because he knew I was the kind of hothead who would want proof of this. I loudly proclaimed "No chance." Sweeper Moon wasn't too far away and heard the whole exchange, because he threw his broom down and his hands up to square off with a cocky teenage kid at that mild of a provocation.
I wasn't scared of him, at all. I had already beaten a few "black belts" at high school, and I had a huge size advantage. So I was laughing when I obliged him and put up my hands as well. What happened next was so fast and wild that I still don't really understand it, but I was hit with an incredibly large amount of open palm strikes in the span of about 5 seconds. They were so fast that I had no time to even think about blocking or clinching with the guy. All I could think was "Damnit, I have messed with the wrong guy. This is like a real life Mortal Kombat combo." After a few shots to the face I went down onto a knee and cupped my head in submission.
Moon just picked up his broom and resumed sweeping, and I went in for some humble fries with a side of shame.
When I was young I was in the Navy. And as you'd expect living amongst a couple hundred aggressive young men, I got into more than a few scraps. I was young, in great shape and had exceptionally fast hands, so I acquitted myself well and had a reputation of someone that you didn't really want to mess with.
Another guy on our ship, a friend of mine, was rumored to have been a top notch collegiate wrestler, almost, but not quite good enough to make the Olympic team that didn't go to Moscow in 1980 (yes, I'm old).
Anyway, being rather full of myself, and never having seen this guy in any kind of dust up, I decided to have a go at him. We were just fooling around, there was no anger involved, just one young tough guy testing another.
I goaded him a few times to show me what he had. I was poised, well balanced and ready for him.
And then I was on my back looking up at the sky.
I wasn't hurt. I never saw him move. No time had elapsed. One instant I was standing in front of him ready for whatever he did, and the next I was on my back looking up at the sky.
Genius that I was, I figured it had to be a fluke.
So I got up and tried him again.
Once again... never saw him move, didn't feel a thing. Just one instant I'm in front of him ready to go, and the next I'm on my back looking up at the sky. And once again, no time had elapsed.
Well, I am less stupid than I am stubborn, so I admitted that he was better than I was and stayed where I was to contemplate the clouds floating silently by overhead.
Never before, or since have I ever been so utterly and completely over-matched. Let me say this again, so its very clear. I never saw him move. Twice! I've gone toe to toe with wrestlers before, but nothing I'd ever done prepared me for this guy. I still don't know what the hell he did, all I know was that one instant I was ready to fight, the next I was on my back. Not hurt, never felt a thing, never saw a thing, didn't notice the passage of any time. It was like I had been teleported from a vertical position to a horizontal one.
That was the day I learned the difference between a good athlete and a world class athlete.
Earlier this year, I was driving through rural Missouri (Missourah?). While on an onramp to get back on the interstate, this guy behind me has his brights on and is only about one car distance behind me, so I flip him off. This guy seems like a full-on redneck, in a raised blue pickup, and is smoking a cigarette.
For the next 50 or so miles, he keeps tailgating me. At this point I'm getting a little scared, so I pass a few cars, and it looks like I've lost him.
About ten minutes later, he pulls up to me, rolls down the window, and throws his cigarette at me. Being as scared as I am, I decide to try to stay as calm as possible, keep my window up, and pay no attention to him. In my peripheral vision, I can see that he's yelling at me, and gestures for me to pull off at the next exit.
He speeds in front of me, cutting me off, and then pulls off. I wisely decide to keep going, and manage to not see him again.
My friends brother was the drummer of a band. We always got back stage at events. One event had Buck Cherry opening for them. At the time Buck Cherry was touring with Hell Yeah. When Buck Cherry went on stage we stood just off stage watching the performance, when some jerks walked up all decked out in metal gear with platform boots and the works. They stood right in front of us blocking our view. I proceeded to shout a slew of swear words at them before telling them to move. They turned around and it was Vinnie Paul and the rest of Hell Yeah along with their entourage.
So lucky I didn't get my butt kicked. They apologized and moved over. I did not however get any autographs.
When you're a kid most adults will tell you one thing or another is "cool" and "fun." Odds are you're too young to form any kind of opinion on the matter one way or another. You're a kid, right? You don't know what you're eating for breakfast. However, when you get older and form that larger worldview, you realize that yeah, maybe that one time when you were a kid actually wasn't fun.
These are those stories.