Once when I was still in an apartment I was woken up sometime after midnight by someone pounding on my door . . . heard a lot of guys yelling.
They sounded drunk.
Still not fully awake, I remember that I sat off to one side of the door (not in line with it) with a loaded .44 mag, telling myself over and over . . . "Keep your finger off the trigger until the door is broken open . . . "
I for darn sure wasn't going to open the door, and I wasn't going to shoot through it, but had the door been breeched, there WOULD have been gunfire.
Turned out it was a couple of (presumably) drunken frat boys who were on the wrong floor, looking for a buddy.
Twice since I got my CHL I was happy to have a gun . . . once was a road rager who just drove off when I smiled, shrugged, and waved, and made him think I was apologizing for whatever it was he thought I did.
A second time a couple of guys were really giving me the eye when I was in a restaurant parking lot with my mother (her birthday) . . . they really looked like they were figuring their chances. (My mother - bless her heart - picked up on that, too.)
I stood there for a bit with my hand in my pocket on my 340SC . . . with my hand already on the gun, I was half a second away from a shot if necessary, but that's the advantage of pocket carry - all anyone else sees is a guy with his hand in his pocket.
They moved on, and climbed into a pickup . . . and just sat there, continuing to eyeball us. We got back into my car and drove elsewhere - they didn't follow. End of story.