Monday, May 21, 2012

2012.05.12 Saturday

Woke up a tad late.  Went to the Noble Pig for breakfast/lunch with Kelc and her dad.  They were cutting onions or something, so I was teary-eyed while I ate a delicious sandwich.

Back home, worked on some Google Sketchup manipulating.  Kelc ran errands and prepared for her upcoming vacation trip.

Later Kelc and I met up with Paul to hit the gym... but that didn't work out too well.  We just chatted instead.  Then more people started showing up, which led to more chatting.  Eventually Kelc and I left because it was getting late.  I was hungry so we stopped at Whataburger on the way home.  The drive-thru looked empty until I placed my order, then it felt like I had to wait 10 minutes just to get up to the main window.  The guy in front of me was leaving, but then went back around and swapped bags with someone inside... then I got the bag he originally got.  Yummy... pre-opened food?  Whatever, doesn't look touched so I think I'll eat it, just write in a concern about food handling procedures.

This is where my night takes a turn for the worse.

Driving back into the neighborhood, cruising along around the speed limit and changing songs on my mp3 player (which doesn't require me looking down, in case you were wondering).  There is another road that comes into the neighborhood from 620, and it looked like there was a line of cars waiting to make the left turn. I blurted out something like "weird, I wonder where all those cars came from simultaneously at this time of night" and just then a car felt like darting in front of me when it was clearly not a good time to take the left turn.  I had to brake moderately hard, but not so much that Whataburger was flying all over the place.  The car in front of me was a black Audi that didn't properly aim for the turn, and swerved into the bike line before correcting.  (Just for reference, the road used to be 2 lane, but they converted the right lane into half-striped and half-bike lane, so the car making it all the way to the bike lane means they missed it by over half of a lane.) At this point, I knew something was up.  Maybe a really distracted driver?  Maybe lost?  Anyways, they continued on this 40mph-speed-limit road at a cruising speed of maybe 25-30.  Then we both took a turn onto the same road. This road had a limit of 30mph, and the car was going at most 20mph.  Then we both took the same next couple turns.  The car pulled into a driveway, while I turned around in a cul-de-sac to park facing the opposite direction.  At this point I wasn't really paying attention to the car anymore because they were out of my way (to enjoying some fancy Whataburger).  I put my car in park, started turning off my mp3 player, and turning down my stereo.  Kelc said something like "oh he's coming" or "he's got a gun" but (silly me) I thought she was joking or making a reference to something.  I turn off my car and start opening my door, and there is a guy on the sidewalk on the other side of the street from me yelling something like "why the f*** are you following me?".

Woah. At this point, time seems to mutate as the seriousness of the situation starts to kick in.  I end up saying something like "sorry man, I'm trying to go home, not trying to follow you" among other attempts to diffuse the situation.  While I'm trying to de-escalate the situation, it becomes more apparent that this guy 1) does not have a shirt on, 2) is quite drunk and is refuting everything I have to say, and most importantly 3) is holding an object that looks very much like a small 6-shooter.  What is there to do from this point?  I said "sorry sir, I wasn't trying to follow you" and "I wasn't tailgating you" with him drunkenly saying "you're not sorry" and "I know your kind".

Really?  I have a kind?

I had no chance to win a vocal argument.  I also had no chance of "winning" if he decided to use his firearm.  (I'd like to believe that I could hold my own against someone at that level of sobriety, but I did not feel like testing that theory.)  I said that "I'm going home" a couple times, then just started walking.  I like to believe that drunk people act more normal when nobody is paying attention to them anymore, instead of being all show.  He screamed out a few curse words, and went back to his house, while Kelc and I went inside.  Once inside, it still took me a moment to compute what the heck just happened.  Spoke with Kelc's siblings for a second, but then ended up going out back to call up the police.  (For the curious, 311 forwarded me to 911 because there was deadly weapon and a drunk driver involved, both of which escalate to "emergency" level even though I was pretty much safe at this point.)  I confirmed addresses and was finishing up my reporting duties when the operator said that officers would be there shortly to address the situation.  Cool... and not cool at the same time.  I don't want to re-escalate the situation.  I'm also running off pure adrenaline, so I'm already wired and don't feel like having a chit-chat.  Oh well, within probably 10-12 minutes there were 2 cars outside with officers ready and willing to take a report and try to make contact with the subject. Unfortunately for us, but fortunately for drunk man, he didn't answer his door.  Out of all the moves he made that night, that was probably his smartest.  The officers came back to say they were unable to make contact, but will be filing a public disturbance report.  They also suggested not trying to make contact (that would be silly).

I tried to eat some Whataburger, cold.

Then I went home and did google snooping instead of sleeping because I was still riding the adrenaline.  I'm very thankful that the night turned out as it did, and not worse.  So far, my worst "Wrong place - wrong time" situation.

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