Unfiltered Story #255891

I was around 9-10 in this story.
One of my older cousins, around 30, had offered me to go out to eat some kebab at a location that I considered the best in town at the time. Since kebab was a treat, I gladly picked the offer up, and we went.
As I ordered a pita kebab, two customers started to loudly argue over something. As I started to pick ingredients, the argument escalated in a fight, which was then brought out of the kebab shop into the street and my cousin asked me if I was sure I wanted to have kebab there (which in hindsight was an obvious sign he wanted to get the h*** out of there), but I insisted to stay. As the kebab-maker behind the counter fullfilled my order, one of the two people was holding the other in a stranglehold against the curb while some standbyers shouted for him to stop, while my cousin asked the kebab maker to hurry up: in all of this, I placidly waited until I got to hold onto my tinfoiled pita.
My cousin payed, we walked out past the two fighting, and we got back home. For years, I couldn’t understand why my cousin had called me “Ice Man” in front of my parents and relatives or why he was shocked by my calmness in that situation, until I grew up.