They wore vests festooned with patches, Kangol hats tilted to the side and Haggar slacks or jeans, and they carried inverted golf clubs - for clubbing, not golf. Standing atop and astride milk crates spread across the sidewalk, three teens laughed and glowered at the pedestrians who had to step into the street to get past them, a procession of women, kids and, most appallingly, able-bodied men who figured that the better part of valor was getting home in one piece.