Yesterday, I bought a pair of black pants from The Gap in San Francisco. They were $50, and I could have bought a second pair for $25. I did not.
Today I took them out of the bag, in LA, and realized that the security tag was still attached. Since I needed to wear them early the following morning, I grabbed a cab with my girlfriend and began the twenty minute drive while the cabbie listened to love power ballads.
We were stopped at a red light. Careless Whisper was playing on the radio. I was staring off through the side window, when a white car pulled up in the adjacent lane. A woman was driving, likely in her late 20s. As she pulled to a stop, a man, balding, mid 30s, and seemingly waiting for her, approached the passenger side of her car from the sidewalk. He knocked on the passenger window with his knuckle, and she turned to look.
I couldn’t tell if she tapped the power locks, or if the doors were unlocked, but the man quickly opened the passenger door, and sat down. She immediately put her hands to her face, covering her mouth and nose while looking straight ahead.
For a moment, I thought he was an old friend that had somehow surprised her with a serendipitous meeting. While staring at her, he began shouting. His fist lashed out at the windshield, without moving his head. The shock of the windshield breaking caused my girlfriend to look over and ask, “What was that?”
“Should I call 911?” I asked the car. I unlocked my phone and brought the dialer up. The cabbie glanced over and was silent. The light turned green, and he pressed the accelerator firmly. I prepared to dial, and asked my girlfriend to tell me the licence plate number.
“There’s no front plate,” she said.
And then we were gone. The white car had begun to accelerate, but much more slowly than us, and by now was far behind and obscured by LA traffic. The cabbie made no attempt to slow. Careless Whisper continued to play. We turned and arrived at The Gap, where I paid the cabbie and we exited.
Count to seven using one thousands or Mississippis or whatever you grew up with. The entire event was finished in less than that.
I debated calling the Police afterwards. I realized that I had absolutely nothing to tell them. I didn’t even know what street we were riding on. Even now I can barely remember what they looked like. I just remember that she covered her face, and didn’t move. I think that was terror.
— @KirbySaysHi Jun 24, 2013