Car-Jacked. Almost.

I always thought that I’d freeze if ever I were in a situation where I felt extremely threatened. I didn’t. At least I think I didn’t. Last Saturday, which was to include a review of several things, turned out to be a lot more “happening” than I’d planned. I hang out alone a lot, meaning I go places by myself a lot of the times. Sure, I usually run into people I know when I get to these places or end up talking to perfect strangers, but I go places alone.

Saturday was the grand opening of a friend’s coffee shop. I drove there and GH met me there on his Scooter ‘cause he had to go embalm old ladies the next day. We ran into several people we both know while there and went to dinner afterwards. After dinner I was headed home cause I was tired and I didn’t have my dancing shoes on. I had my dancing shoes on I just didn’t have my psychological dancing shoes on and I was tired and I had a friend drunk dialing me to come meet her at her sister’s bachelorette party. Did I mention that I despise bachelorette parties? I do, with a passion. There’s nothing I find more distasteful or annoying than a bunch of estoopid, drunken girls donning a giant inflatable penis, playing estoopid games while the bride-to-be wears a estoopid veil covered with condoms and other ridiculous shit on it. That’s how they do it in the dirty souf! Anyway, I checked in with her several times and by 11:50 p.m. she was a slurring mess offering to pick me up anywhere since they were in a limo. It was her duty though; she is to be the matron of honor next week.

After dinner GH left for home and I stayed and talked to Scooter man for a while, then he went home ‘cause it was 11 something and he was planning to crash the Harley Parade with a group of friends on their scooters- sorry I missed that but I’m still training on how to properly ride GH’s scooter without running it into the ground in lieu of using the regular brakes. I’d decided to go home myself but then figured I’d had enough rest ‘cause I’d stayed in on Friday night. I headed over to my regular hangout and drove there even though it was only 2-3 blocks away. That’s when the fun started.

I parked on a side road, turned off the engine, and answered a quick phone call from my drunken friend who said she was in line to get into the trendy-so-cool-now club. Oops, now I’m really not going to this bachelorette thing. Line? Club? Right. I see a youngish black dude cross the street, lean over to pick up a mint and hear my car door open, driver side. Next I see a torso in a tan t-shirt with a very shiny small gun which moves to my head while I hear:

Dude with the gun who needs a job: “Get out of the car.”

Me: “Oh, c’mon man.”

DWTGWNJ: “Get out of the car.”

Me: Trying to figure out the severity of the situation, thinking, shit my skates are in the trunk, this car’s paid off, is he really gonna shoot, is that a real gun, blah, blah, blah….

DWTGWNJ: “Get in the passenger seat.”

Me: “Hey, you can have the car I don’t need it, let me out.”

DWTGWNJ: Cocking the gun, pointing it straight to my left temple and actually exerting pressure enough to make me lean to the right: “I said get in the passenger seat.”

Me: “You get in the passenger seat, where do you need to go, I’ll give you a ride.”

DWTGWNJ: Still holding the gun to my head, “Get in the passenger seat.”

Me: “It’s a stickshift. You know how to drive a stickshift?”

DWTGWNJ: Removing gun from my head; “Maaan, just give me your purse.”

I handed him my purse and he walked away from my car. I tried to get more detail as to how to describe him. Another guy came out of the shadows/bushes from the right side of the road and walked alongside of him. They kept walking while going thru the purse, stopped at the corner and kicked something, made a left and went out of site. As I watched them get away, casually walking away with my shit I wished I had a gun. But I guess it’s best I didn’t -I’m pretty sure I would’ve used it. I walked the few feet towards my hang out after calling 911 and reciting the incident to the dispatch. I think she asked me if I wanted a unit to show. WTF lady? Yes I want a fucking unit here; I just had a gun pointed to my head, my good side too!

The doorguy at my hangout (they now employ one since the local cops have been busy staging set-ups to fine bars/bartenders for serving underage drinkers) I happen to know, said hi and I told him what happened and a bunch of people came out to see what was happening. They went around the corner but the would-be-car-jackers were gone. A cop finally showed up took a report and said some really estoopid things about how that wasn’t Buckhead, (a supposedly posh drinking mecca in a nicer neighborhood, ‘cept several people have been murdered there with guns mostly and a couple of stabbings). The cop said another unit, civilian, would come out. I waited, waited, waited. Nothing. Meanwhile the people I know at my hangout kept beckoning me inside for a stiff one; a drink of course. Another guy that was leaving when I got there had actually gotten mugged about a month and a half ago; I’m no detective- but it’s the same area around a park, the same ammo pretty much every time, it’s the same assholes out there.

I eventually went inside and sat for a drink, several drinks really -but refused all the shots that were offered ‘cause I only do PBR now, I like to function after a night’s full o’ drinking. Besides, jagger makes me see things and shit.

I did become a celebrity for the night, though, people I didn’t know kept coming up to me and introducing themselves and telling about how they knew this guy who knew this guy who got robbed. And how one time at bandcamp……. Other people simply whispered, “Hey that’s the girl who got mugged earlier,” as I walked by. Yes, another survivor of the rough streets that is my ‘hood. It’s really not that rough at all, I think the cops are just waiting for another person to actually get hurt -really hurt- before they really do something about it, because the last death from a “pedestrian armed robbery” where somebody actually died was well over two years ago already.

The funny thing though is that I never carry cash, ‘cause using credit cards lets me keep my drunken fieldtrips more accurate so they got nothing. I did have cash in the car. Some change I’d left there the week before, about $60.00. They took all the credit cards but the guys from the bar actually recovered my purse from the sewer hole at the corner where the two guys kicked something before turning the corner.

I hope they get caught. They managed to use an unsigned card at a Super-Wal-Mart. I don’t like Wal-Mart and I don’t shop there. Ever. When I talked to the credit card people I asked them who actually gets stuck with paying fraudulent charges. She said she couldn’t “discuss this at this time” since I need to fill out paperwork. Whatever, it wasn’t my charge and maybe they’re on camera somewhere. At the end of the day though I don’t have much faith in the Zone 6 APD, and I’ve probably watched one too many episodes of Law & Order and the many other cop/lawyer shows I was addicted to before I turned off my satellite. Still, had I not watched so much Law & Order, I wouldn’t have kept repeating to myself: “People don’t come back from joyrides with guys with guns.” And if they do, they come back really fucked-up and stuff and really a bullet there would have made that obsolete so staying put was better than moving to the passenger seat I thought. Although my friend said that that small gun wouldn’t have killed me, rather it would’ve turned me into yet another Terry Shiavo and then the “Christian-Republicans” would’ve had another case to champion and the election for 2008 would’ve been a slam-dunk. I’m soooo glad I didn’t get shot. Plus, I won our little office contest of "Can you top this weekend?"

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