Held up at gunpoint at my parents business. My dad shot the gun out of the guys hand* and the guy in the getaway car took off. Leaving the wannabe robber to run home bleeding. They got him in less than 1/2 hour. All they had to do was follow the blood.

To this day, 25 years later, I still remember the absolute deafening silence after those gunshots. The brightness of the lights. I remember repeatedly hitting the silent alarm in an absolute panic. Then wondering why sirens weren't going off and the police weren't there. I remember the guys from the pizza place running in. My dad screaming get her out of here. And running after the guy with a shotgun. Sitting in the pizza place with a diet coke. And wondering why everyone was staring at me.

I remember the reporters shining lights into the store trying to get pictures. Asking for interviews. My dad saying GTFO. I remember going with the police to ID the guy. If remember my grandma and grandpa coming. I remember finally leaving the store. With a coat over my head. Just in case.

From start to finish - less than a minute of my life. 25 years ago. And I remember every fucking minute like it just happened. And it changed everything.

Well, that was a shitty walk down memory lane.

So yeah - pretty sure than never happened to anyone.

*He shot through a glass partition. The glass deflected the bullets. Otherwise, the guy would be dead. Six shots. Four holes in the glass. Chest level. One bullet hit the guy in the wrist. But dad still likes to think he shot the gun out of his hand. He left behind a bag with police ties, duct tape, a police scanner and more. And no - not Texas. Just a small town in New England.