My third and last story was an incident at a Pink Floyd concert in Cleveland, OH (yes, many years ago). Me and my girlfriend were walking down the stadium steps in search of our seats. The line on the stairs was packed and my friend was on crutches, so I held back to provide her more space and keep her from getting bumped from behind. Three guys were behind us, loudly talking about how hot we were, and they’d all like a piece of that. Pretty soon a hand was squeezing my right buttock. I timed it out, and sure enough, here came another squeeze. I counted silently in my head for the “third time’s a charm” one, and raised my hands together at my waist. When the countdown was right, I jack-hammered my right elbow backwards and up, connecting soundly. I immediately turned around and saw the guy behind me bent over holding his stomach, and the other two standing totally still with the most dumfounded looks on their faces. Then I said, “Assholes.” We kept going down the steps. No more squeezes after that, and they stayed about two steps behind us the rest of the way down.