Knife to a Gunfight

I walked the streets a bit after work yesterday. Meandered my way home, but took a different route, and as I came upon a row of benches on the North side of Madison Square Park, I saw two guys talking. They were about my age, and one was leaning back on the bench, arms spread wide, gut stuck out, in a restful position. Not a care in the world did he appear to have. His presumed friend however, was encroaching on his space. Leaning forward, gesturing with his hands, I could see he was explaining something. A few moments later I was within earshot. I heard the man leaning forward say "I want to be the guy who wins a gunfight with a knife." He paused, and stared intently at his friend, but his friend gave nothing back. He just sat their, gut stuck out, eyes set forward in an uninterestred stare. And then I was out of earshot again.

I want to be the guy who wins a gunfight with a knife. I thought about it for the rest of my walk. Did he mean he wanted to be heroic, or beat the odds in a tough situation? Or was he implying that he wanted to challenge himself, and come out on the other end stronger for it. Whatever it was, I fell in love with the line. It was the kind of phrase I wish I'd thought of myself. Granted, I'm prone to brief flashes of insightfulness and literary wit. But this was different. This was real. And it was how the man had said it, so impassioned. He believed it. He truly believed it for all he was worth. It was a profound moment for that guy. Maybe his friend didn't see it, or maybe he didn't care. Or maybe I misread the entire situation as we often do when we merely overhear a small bit of conversation. For all I know he could have been quoting someone. And though I wish I could've eavesdropped a bit longer, the brief moment I did catch was absolutely perfect.