This is basically what happened. I was at Jim and Sylwinn's house talking with them after the concert.  Around 10:30pm, I just had to look at (ok, and play with) my new knife that they gave me for the extra help with the wedding. I had locked it in my car before going to the concert, so I opened the front door to go outside and retrieve it.

When I stepped onto the porch, I saw about 10 black boys in the street. They all seemed about 13 or 14 years old and were just meandering down the street.  This is the city so parking is on the street, and cars lined both sides.  Two of the boys started walking over the cars on one side of the street - stepping from bumper to trunk to roof to hood to the next car.  This wasn't malicious; they weren't stomping on the cars, and none of them appeared to be damaged; it's just one of those thoughtless things that boys will do.  And hey - it's the city - it's not like there are lots of trees or hills to climb. I'm not so much defending them as saying I can relate to them.

Anyway, one of the boys ran across the street to do the same thing to the cars on that side, but in this case my car happened to be the first one in line.  As he stepped on my bumper, I loudly said, "Hey - that's my car." The boy jumped down, and they started to scatter but stopped when they saw I wasn't chasing them or pulling out a gun.  As I walked over to my car, they just stared, waiting to see if I was going to start something. I passed between two of them to the driver's side door and unlocked it.  They made no move to either bar my way or surround me. They did not seem at all threatening but rather curious with nothing better to do. Also, they were all smaller than I was, and I figured I could take on the lot of them if need be. This is where I made a mistake: I dismissed them and turned my back to the ones closest to me.

As I opened the car door, I started to lean in to reach the knife from under the seat.  Suddenly, a boy (I think the one who was starting to walk on my car) hit me in the back of the head.  I know earlier I said he hit me in the mouth, but I've given it a lot of thought and now believe the blow to have been delivered to the back of my head. I think this because there was some pain at the rear of my skull and because I never even glimpsed anything coming near my face, and I suspect they were not, in fact, that blindingly fast.

The boy hit the back of my head, and my face slammed into my hand resting on the car door. I was absolutely shocked. As soon as the blow fell, they all took off down the street as fast as they could run. I didn't really even think about chasing them, they were already so far down the block when I finally got over my surprise enough to function. I stared after them, into the darkness for a bit, picked up the knife (which they never even saw), and shambled back inside.

Jim and Sylwinn reacted rather more strongly than I did. Of course, my lips were already swollen and bleeding, and some blood was dribbling down my chin, so that aided the dramatic effect. I explained what happened, put some ice on my mouth, and dissuaded Sylwinn from calling the police. To be fair, her concern is a valid one: she does not want this group of boys to develop into a dangerous gang. We all sat around chatting for another hour or so, and then I let them alone for the night.

That's it. No more facts to relate. It saddens me, though, that out of the many possible responses, they chose a violent one. American black culture seems to be generally one of anger and violence, and I don't know what can be done about it.