Sunday, August 11, 2002

I was a victim of a violent physical attack on Friday the 9th of August.

I was driving my employer's Mitsubishi Montero down 46th St. toward 8th Avenue, talking to a friend on my cell phone. All of a sudden, a white, fat, balding man with glasses bound across the street, jay walking while traffic had a green light. I came closer to him than he felt was appropriate, so he screamed at me, in New York fashion, "Fuckin' Asshole!" I looked at him expressionless, and kept on driving. Unfortunately for me, the light turned red before I got through it. I looked in my rear view mirror and saw big fat balding man stomping over towards my car. He didn't look like he was coming over to say hi. "This is going to get ugly," I said to myself. He stood next to my window and screamed, "You fucking bitch!" I held my cell phone up and said, "I'm calling 911." He hit the window hard with his hand and screamed again. "Fuck you, you fucking bitch!" He hit the window with his hand a second time, even harder. When he did, the glass shattered every where. His hand came through the glass and hit the side of my face, hard. Before I knew it, I had a mouth full of hand and glass. Blood started dripping down onto my hands. I think I was in shock, I couldn't really feel any pain. I started screaming, "I'm being attacked!" Then I hung up on my friend, who had been on the other end of what was probably the most horrifying phone call of his life. At that point, I did dial 911, and big fat baldy started running, well actually, he was more blobbering about, kind of shuffling as quickly as he could. I yelled, "You better run," then I thought better of it, and said, "But first, you better give me some money for this broken window you fat fuck!" 911 answered the call and I followed the fat man down 46th street, yelling my location to the 911 attendant, trying to answer questions and spit out mouthfulls of blood at the same time. Fatty came clambering back towards me and so I turned around, assuming he was ready to begin round two. But instead, he turned and flobbered down an alley towards 47th street. I chased him down the alley, then slowed up and let some distance come between us before I started following him again. He went into JR's restaurant where he made a phone call on the pay phone. I stayed by the door and tried to talk to the 911 operator, who kept asking me over and over where I was when I'd told her 23 times. Blobby came stammering over towards the door so I got out of his way. He flibber flobbered across the street and I followed him. Luckily, a Times Square Safety Patrolman was standing there and I called out to him. I hung up on the 911 operator who was totally useless and told the TS Officer, "This man attacked me!" And the big fat asshole screamed, "You fuckin' bitch! You tried to run me over! She tried to run me over in her car!" The officer said, "Well, you don't have a scratch on you and her face is covered in blood. Things aren't looking so good for you."

I went with one TS Officer and got my car, which I had left parked in the middle of 46th street with my purse, money and belongings in it, the window smashed out and keys in the ignition. Luckily, it was still there and everything was intact. I looked at my face in my rear view mirror and was horrified. My chin, teeth and lips were covered in blood. There were small scratches on my cheek and a bruise on my eye brow. I looked like I'd been punched in the face by a man. And I had.

When I came back over to my car, a construction worker came over to the car and said, "You should have told us what happened! We would have beaten the shit out of that guy!" I wished I had. One thing I regret looking back was that I didn't ask anyone for help. I assumed everyone would have been too busy or scared to want to get involved, but it turns out there are really two kinds of New Yorkers: the ones who actually have pretty big hearts and the ones who smash your windows out.

The TS Officers and I waited for the actual police to arrive, who took upwards of an hour and even actually drove by a TS Officer who was frantically trying to wave them down. Very disappointing. When they did arrive, we talked about my options, and I decided not to press charges, but I wanted the fat man to pay me $300 cash on the spot for my window, and apologize. We waited for about 20 minutes for the blob to get the money, then he came over and handed it to me without even looking at me, and refused to apologize. He also demanded a receipt, which he grabbed out of my hand like it was about to be his lunch, and flibbidy doo-ed down the road, looking for someone else's window to smash.

I would like to thank the Times Square Safety Patrol men and women on the scene that day for their attention to me and my situation, especially Times Square Safety Patrolman Cooper and the lady who sat with me in my car. If the Times Square Safety Patrol hadn't been there, who knows what kind of ending this story would have? Also, I would like to thank my friend, Roger, who came down to the scene and met me, called the mean man lots of funny names and made me laugh, then drove the car and me away from the scene.

So you, the reader, may be thinking, 'fat man got off pretty much scott free, and he didn't even have to apologize'. But the fat man didn't get off scott free. Him not apologizing means that the negativity he created is still out there, fluttering around, homeless, looking for someone's face to perch itself apon. Unfortunately, negativity has a boomerang effect. Hopefully he can learn that and make good before it comes back around to collect. And it will. It always does.

As for me, I went to the beach for the weekend. I took the car which I was victimized in. I'm not going to let this ruin my city experience or make me feel vulnerable. I've decided to take the lessons I can get from this and let the rest go. This is the knowledge I feel I have gained from this and how I plan to use it:

1. I WILL BE MORE AWARE. From now on, I am going to be a more conscientious driver. I certainly will not under estimate any drivers, jay walkers or pedestrians.
2. I AM MORE INFORMED. Anyone can be crazy, especially, and even, if they are fat, white and balding.
3. I WILL PROTECT MYSELF BETTER. I plan to carry weapons in my car now. Mace in the glove compartment and some kind of stick under the seat, also things that are easily accessible from any seat. My car is going to be like a really crappy version of a spy's car. I recommend every woman do this who drives in the city.
4. I WILL ASK FOR HELP. I shouldn't have chased the fat man. I think that could have been very dangerous. In the future should something like this happen again, I will probably be more likely to ask some big strong men for help. They seem to 'like' to help, and be ready and willing to help, a woman in need.
5. I WILL BE THANKFUL FOR EVERY SUN THAT I SEE SET. I have read about and seen stories on the news like mine that ended in total tragedy. My story ends with a fat lip, a bruised eye brow, a broken window, and an intense feeling of appreciation to, and acknowledgement of, god, the universe and the powers that be.
I will be thankful for every sun that I see set.

So that's it. It's a beautiful night. I think I'm going to go for a drive.

No comments: