Always go for the bum rush. That's what I did last fall at the Surly tailgate.
While @immamac was stacking the condiments on the folding table, I launched a withering assault from behind and landed a wicked blow to the back of his head with all the aged might I could muster. Both of us tumbled forward straight into the table, which collapsed, with ketchup and mustard bottles, beer openers, paper plates and containers of cole slaw flying every which way. A woman screamed and a huge roar of anger erupted from the crowd. I remember a wild scramble as men grabbed at me, dragging me off Immamac by my legs. His face was bleeding and his glasses were shattered. The enraged onlookers pummeled me with punches and kicks, and I freely admit that I screamed in terror like a girl.
As the furious men pounded me with heavy blows, I cried, whimpered and screamed for mercy, stuttering that my medication was to blame. They must have broken my nose, and I was engulfed in pain from the many vicious blows and kicks. Finally, seeing me wrapped up in a ball and crying hysterically, they relaxed their grip. I could see Immamac laying close to me with @6th Street's fiancee administering first aid to him.
With what little strength I could muster, I delivered the hardest kick I could, straight to Immamac's face, and I could feel the bones and tissue of his nose collapse, as blood flew everywhere. A mighty cry of fury erupted and three or four dudes proceeded to beat the living crap out of me
That's the last thing I remember.