Late Night Strolls
When I was in college, I lived in a sketchy part of Chicago. I liked to take late-night strolls, even when I was living in that neighborhood as a 20-year-old woman. Yeah, I know. Pretty dumb of me.
One night, I was feeling stressed out so I embarked on one of my late-night strolls. I was walking along a somewhat busy road. Cars were zooming past me. Pretty normal.
I wasn’t paying much attention because I was too wrapped up in whatever was stressing me out that night. Suddenly, a chill shot up my spine.
Hypervigilance washed over me and I became more alert than I had ever been. Something was wrong.
Someone was watching me. I quickly spotted a car. It was driving in the opposite direction, a little slower than usual. It was too dark for me to see anyone inside the car, and the car was pretty unassuming.
But I still knew something was off.
They were watching me. I just knew. The car drove past me and then made a U-turn. Now it was right behind me, creeping along the curb. Luckily, there was a convenience store a few blocks ahead.
I started walking faster, and the car eventually sped past me and disappeared into a corner. I somehow knew I wasn’t safe yet, so I still sprinted to the store.
I told the security guard what happened, and we both went outside. The car was parked up the street, about 50-100 feet away. The security guard was a big guy who looked intimidating.
He marched toward the car, and the car immediately backed up, made a U-turn, and then booked it out of there. The security guard called the cops, and they drove me home.
I never took a late-night stroll again. My gut made me more alert, but it was really the security guard who saved my life. I’m positive that if he wasn’t there that night, something bad would’ve happened to me.
I wish I could find that security guard to thank him.