I'm not completely sure, but I think I hate people.
Last night I went to the fireworks display in English Bay and watched from the roof of a friend's friend's building. It was a clear view of the barge and the sky, and there were a bunch of people, probably about 30, there to watch, too. That wasn't when I realised I didn't like people. It was after, when I walked from English Bay to Chinatown to catch a bus home.
Now, the walk itself wasn't so bad. I walked with Eileen to downtown, which was actually not so bad. I was prepared for it with appropriate footwear. We kept to quiet streets to avoid people. I know that buses aren't so accessible on the nights of Symphony of Fire. The problem was I wasn't interested in interacting with people along the way from when I left Eileen to Chinatown. Why drunk strangers feel the need to interact in the dark is beyond me. Like, are you so drunk that talking to a single woman at 11:45pm on the street seems like a good idea? I didn't walk down any dark streets; all were main roads. And I wasn't dressed in a way that said I wanted to party or have a good time. I was dressed in one of my regular 12-year-old boy outfits. I had to doubleback on a street because a guy on meth was yelling across the street. Good times.
Maybe it's me. Maybe I shouldn't be so cavalier about walking alone at night in the city. I mean, this is the second time in a week that I've had questionable situations with strangers.
The first was after the Camera Obscura show. I took the Skytrain to Main, as usual, and saw that the bus wasn't going to come for another 20 minutes. The walk home is 10 minutes along well-lit, well-traveled roads. It shouldn't have been a problem. As I approached Main and 2nd a car turned onto the street I was about to cross, the driver sticking his head out the window repeatedly to look at me, and parked, idling. It was the road I was supposed to walk down, but I walked straight instead until I was out of eyeshot. I waited a minute and then checked to see if it had driven away. It had. Maybe I was just being paranoid. I started walking down the intended street.
Midway along the car pulled up behind me and started following me. I kept walking with just a quick, pissed off glance over my shoulder to make sure no one was getting out of the car. After a dozen seconds the guy must have gotten bored and did a u-turn and drove away. But it made me so mad.
It's naive of me to think I should be able to walk around at night alone. I know that. But I also know the times I've been followed are few. In the last four years, there was only one other time other than this week where I had to change my route because I was being followed. It just pisses me off that I have to worry about being followed at all. It's not like I'm some small, frail-looking cute girl. I don't see the draw. But I'm also not drunk or on drugs.
So, to recap: I'm still going to walk around alone at night and will continue to be mad if people follow me. I'm too cheap to take a frickin' taxi and that's only going to continue. Also, people who talk to me on dark streets are always drunk and/or on drugs. I know this because no one talks to me during the day.
I think I'm killing one of my plants, despite it living in my dark, sunless office for the last 9 months. The reign of death and destruction continues.
Currently reading :
How to Dress for Every Occasion by the Pope
By Sarah Bennett
Release date: 10 December, 2005
No comments:
Post a Comment