All of a sudden, an I-wish-I-was-a-color gold Camry or Accord or something came whipping around the corner, and missed said coworker by mere inches. He responded with the standard pedestrian pay-attention-you-asshole signal of hitting the fender of the car with his fist.
Our driver buddy wasn't entirely delighted with this signal. He came to a screeching (literally!) halt in the middle of the street, jumped out of the car without even bothering to close the door, and started chasing said coworker. When he caught up to him, Mr. Asshole slammed him up against the wall, and started yelling at him that he was going to kill him.
There was quite a bit of a scuffle. Mr. A was tall, quite heavyset, and had at least a 3:2 weight edge on his victim. A pedestrian and a homeless guy kept trying to tell him to cut it out and calm down, but he was too deeply mired in his own anger to be willing to back off. Who can blame him? If you had just narrowly avoided running over a pedestrian, wouldn't you be pissed at the guy you allowed to live?
I kept scanning the traffic for any sort of law enforcement, but the only one I saw pass by was a DPT vanlet. They're charming-- they didn't even stop to ticket the car that was parked diagonally in the middle of the street blocking two lanes of traffic. I considered calling the police, but my sense was that Mr. A just wanted to threaten, and that he wouldn't actually do damage with several witnesses. I knew that I didn't have the physical strength to help in any way, so I stayed back a few feet and grabbed the cameraphone in hopes of getting enough documentation to help press charges. I also got the jerk's license plate number, and a photo of the car.
In retrospect, I wish I'd thought to ask the homeless guy to grab the guy's car keys and throw them in the dumpster. That would have been poetic.