Subway to front door #1: Get a Grip

I was late for a conference call and so moving quickly; I managed to catch the bus just as I got of the subway; one of those daily victories which convinces me that the world is not, in fact, out to get me.

Moving fast down the block, a nod here and there, a car whistles, girls are jumping rope. A guy calls out; “Can I get a cigarette?”

“I’m almost out; and I’m late!”

Dude, a giant roid-head twice my size saunters into my path. Holding his crotch. I cant wait.

Dude says, “Can I talk to you?”

“I’m sorry, I’m late for a phone call.”

Then, grabbing my wrist firmly, so I can’t keep walking, he says “Baby I got things to do too, but I’d rather talk to you. I’m a Blood, I got grip! Talk to me!”

I try to break his wrist hold on me and say “I don’t give a shit how much money you have, I don’t like men who touch me when I don’t want to be touched. Let go of my fucking hand.”

I break Dude’s grip and walk forward; he grabs my other wrist:

“Don’t go, talk to me! I got grip!”

“Let fucking go of my fucking hand. I told you I’m busy.”

From behind me, Dude’s friend says “Let her go.”

Dude, still holding my wrist, says “Don’t hug her? I want to hug her!”

“Let her go.”

He does. I go.

I’m pleased that I got more pissed than scared.