When I was in my early 20s, I rented a room in a town house in Baltimore. A family lived upstairs from us with their own separate living space. One day there was a knock on the stairwell door, so I opened it. Inside was my male neighbor with a gun pointed right at me. I had no idea if it was loaded or not. I tried to talk to him and get him to put the gun down. After a couple of minutes, he did put the gun down. I was able to breathe again. Finally, he showed me it was not loaded.