March 1, 2006
MARDI GRAS MADNESS
All New Yorkers have to deal with some good ol' fashioned craziness every once in a while. Last night was my turn. On my way home from babysitting duty last night, I stopped at my local bodega and was perusing the Daily News cover story of the horrific rape and murder of a John Jay grad student on the news rack out front. I couldn't help noticing a somewhat wild-eyed middle-aged guy standing on the corner eyeballing me as I went inside to get a soda. On my way out, the man started to follow me across the street exclaiming "Great! That's great!" I kind of nodded in agreement and took out my keys so I could get into my apartment quickly when the time came. Then I stopped on the corner and pulled out my phone to pretend a call, hoping the guy would just keep walking or if he really was following me. At this point, Mr. Crazy, who was about 5'10", 230 lbs, and a had a red ruddy face that looked like he'd spent about 3 decades too many at the bar, started screaming "You know what you did! You know what you did!" and punched me in the face. I stayed on my feet but was completely stunned as he grabbed my keys out of hand. He continued to advance on me as I asked him "Yo man, what the fuck?!" and I stupidly walked backwards into 5th Ave. where I'm lucky I didn't get run over. I quickly retreated back inside the corner store and called 911. My assailant calmly walked down the avenue, my keys in hand, before turning off onto a side street.
The cops showed up surprisingly quickly--I'd say in about 90 seconds--and we did a ridearound of the surrounding blocks looking for the guy, but he was nowhere to be found, leading me to believe he lives somewhere in the neighborhood. Supposedly, I'll be hearing from a detective in the next few days for a followup investigation, but I'm not too optimistic. In the greater scheme of things I think I got off pretty easy. The cops wanted to take me to the hospital, but I declined. My face hurt like I'd just been punched in it, but there was no blood or lost teeth. I still had my wallet, cell phone, and was happy yesterday was the first time I'd walked out of my house without my iPod in months. Getting a locksmith to visit your house around midnight and drill your deadbolt, however, is absurdly expensive, and I mean outrageously shockingly absurdly expensive.
Getting mugged is infuriating, but somewhat comprehendable. Getting asaulted by a total lunatic is upsetting on a whole different level. It didn't occur to me until an hour later that Mr. Crazy probably watched me reading the article about the young woman's murder in front of the bodega, logically put two and two together, and deduced that I was the killer. He was just there to dispense a little street justice. What are you gonna do? I'll be keeping my eyes open, because that psycho's gonna be paying for my new lock via blood, treasure, or jailtime if I have anything to do with it. And yes, I'll be letting the cops issue the beatdown; I'm not stupid.
UPDATE: Cop friends informed me that what I went on wasn't "a ridearound", but "a canvas" when looking for the guy that assaulted me. Trying to keep myself legit.
Tagged:Posted by Lexiphane at March 1, 2006 11:07 AM
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Comments
When are you going to wise up and move back to Po-town, my man? Seriously -- craziness. Glad you're okay. -stm
Posted by: Sean at March 1, 2006 11:59 AM
Death by boredom is surely a slower, crueler fate than any meted out by NYC lunatics.
Posted by: lexiphane at March 1, 2006 12:06 PM