Once, when I was in college in Scotland, there was a hammering on our ground floor apartment door at about 3am. Which apparently is prime idiot time. It was three dudes, looking for a chick who we later discovered used to live in this apartment. The "lead" dude had a knife and simply backed me right back into the apartment by swinging it at gut level when I opened the door.
I was weirdly calm and explained they had the wrong place. She wasn't here. I'd never heard of her. I think he believed me. He said something about "did I think I was a tough guy" and I said, something about not being tough because of him having a knife and two buddies.
This was Scotland in the early 90s. Not even a bad area, but a sort of transition point between the nightlife in the city and residential neighborhoods.
So he threw it on the ground and said, "I don't have a knife now, are you still a tough guy." Or very Scottish words to that effect.
So I stepped forward and picked the knife up, and my room mate Danny came out of his room with a bar from his weights. This all took like one second. The three of them backed out, left and we never saw them again.
Anyway I was terrified they'd come back the rest of the time I lived there.
I had actually been stabbed months, maybe a year before this event, and was scared shitless of being stabbed, unsurprisingly.