Well, like I said, when he first approached us, I got up and talked to him, and he seemed cool with us again and left. Then evidently we "got to loud" again, and he comes over, and our buddy that just graduated was seated opposite me, closest to the end of the table. The guy gets up in his face, and starts talking all kinds of garbage, screaming in his face, et al. So I stood up (it's been so long I don't remember the exact dialogue), and I asked the guy what the eff his problem was? We exchange some words, the guy takes a swing at me. He's drunk, the punch is slow, I side step it, and hit him a couple of times. His nose popped almost immediately. He's still standing up, so I hit him a few more times, and he goes to the floor. I step away, the bouncers make their way over and pull me aside, ask me what happened. The bartender says he's calling the cops. It ain't his place, he has to.
The whole thing was over in seconds. It wasn't some knock down drag out brawl, and I certainly didn't keep hitting him after he fell down.
As for my mindset about the entire deal, I'll try to keep it simple. I was a 22 year old kid, who had only ever before been busted for possession of marijuana. And when I say busted, I don't mean arrested. I mean a cop caught me smoking pot out of a one-hitter in a park. I don't know about Indiana, but in NY, pot's not exactly seen as a big deal. The cop took my pot, took my bat and dugout, and wrote me a ticket for possession of marijuana. I went to court, paid a fine and done.
Now, I'm arrested, charged with a gigantic felony, and in jail. In short, I'm crapping in my pants. I took the plea deal on my attorneys advisement, because he pretty much said, if you go to trial in Suffolk County, you go to prison. And the option of going to prison for one year, or a minimum of 5 and a maximum of 25, well that's not hard math.
so that's pretty much it in a nutshell.
