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A few years ago, my wife and I had just come out of the Uffizi Gallery in Florence, Italy and were walking north into the Piazza della Signoria. Florence is notorious for pickpockets and I was constantly aware of my surroundings. Florence is also a street performer's stage and there were plenty of them around.
I was glancing toward my right at a large statue when I saw a hand appear at my right side, just above my belt, right where I always carry a handgun when I’m at home in Florida. I grabbed it in the standard retention move, twisted and turned to find myself holding a mime in a wrist lock.
I never cared for mimes.
Apparently, this guy was playing for the crowd and had intended to tickle me, and maybe my wife, under the short ribs. Instead of getting a laugh, he was down on one knee and in considerable pain. Imagine my sympathy.
I eased off a bit on the pressure and, with my left hand, shook my index finger slowly in his face. The crowd laughed and cheered. I smiled at him, let him go and made a “shoo” gesture with both hands. He backed up a couple of steps and, you have to give him credit, gave me a deep bow.
Then I had to spend the next few minutes explaining to my wife why I’d assaulted a mime. Funny, I always thought that's what they were for!
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