I paid for college by mixing bands in clubs. One of them was at 2nd and Jackson in Seattle, where Jackson St. is the original "skid row" (for the trees "skidding" down to the harbor - it's a long, crazy hill). I was mixing somebody big on a Thursday night with a thermodynamics midterm the next day. I was exhausted. And I walked to my car near oblivious to my surroundings.
I was halfway through a group of black gangbangers tossing a wallet back and forth to each other with a disgruntled and upset middle-aged white man in the middle before I realized what I'd done. I opted to stay the hell out of it ('cuz 2 guys vs 10 isn't a whole lot more compelling than 1 guy vs 10) and kept walking to my car. A few minutes later I heard footsteps and looked back - three of them were following me.
I sped up a little bit and looked back again. One of them said "relax man, we got no beef with you."
I said "it's cool, man. You can understand my concern." They laughed.
Then someone down an alley shouted "Yo!" and the three men stopped. The one who had talked to me said "have a good night," and they started walking down the alley.
"You too," I said, and kept walking. 10 seconds later I heard gunshots.
That's Seattle. My Albuquerque stories are worse.