When the Crack Heads Come Out to Play

Part One

I got mugged the other night.

Almost. But it was still pretty terrifying. It was around six thirty at night, and I was walking toward my work building in Downtown, when some guy in an olive green t-shirt and matching flannel pajama pants got up and asked me if I had any change.

I responded, "No, I don't have cash. Sorry."

He looked me up and down and said, "Really? Are you serious?" As he was saying that, he continued to follow me and look me over as I was walking away so I put my hand up and told him that no, I didn't have money, and he needed to get out of my face.

I thought I had shaken him off, because he was no longer walking next to me and talking into my face. When I looked into the reflection of one of the buildings, however, I saw that he was right behind me following me with his eyes on my wallet in my hand.

So I turned around and stormed at him yelling, "GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME!!"

Like the true mad woman that I really am. The guy seemed pretty startled and took a couple steps back. That was when I heard a man's voice in the distance yelling, "Ey! What's going on over there??" I think that, combined with my bat shit crazy confrontation, compelled the guy to take off running.

I continued to walk off. I couldn't be phased by a mere mugger. I had a party to get to. Plus, I didn't think I was ever going to see him again.

I was wrong.