I was reminded of this story while I was driving with Caitlin to the Edmonton Expo on the weekend. Why did it come up? I can’t exactly remember. Was I maybe air-punching to a song in her car? Oh, probably. That is something I do often…

So, flashback to…2007, I believe. I was driving home super late from a date (?) with the guy I was sort of dating (?)* at the time. It was between 2 and 3am. My route home cut through a bit of a sketchy area in the city centre.

SIDENOTE: Of course it did, otherwise why would I be telling this story?

So I pulled up to a corner, waiting to turn right at a red light. I was just sitting in my car, totally calm and focused on driving. Normal normal.

And out of nowhere, I started to hear this CRAZY LOUD BANGING like the sky was falling down.

Naturally, I freaked out and started screaming, “WHAT THE FUCK?! WHAT THE FUCK?!” and covering my head and also looking everywhere and trying to figure out what the fuck.

My car was being attacked.

By a homeless man.

For no good reason.

SIDENOTE: It’s possible he thought he had a good reason, but this is my blog from my perspective, so fuck that guy.


He was standing right next to my car, screaming at the top of his lungs and pounding on the roof with angry, balled up fists.

Now, of course I wanted to get the hell out of there, but somehow, despite my intense fear and the fact that I had started crying, I had the level-headed-ness to recognize that the guy had stepped off the curb and was standing on the street. So what if when I drove away, I drove over his feet or hurt him?

I could only hold onto that thought for so long, because the traffic light turned green and the man kept screaming and attacking my car and I was totally freaked out so eventually (see: 45-60 seconds later) I hit the gas and turned the corner.

And then my imagination went wild.

What if I did drive over his feet?

What if he was like, collapsed on the street, unable to walk away?

What if I killed the guy?

Would someone somehow find me and arrest me?

My life was surely over.

I was definitely going to prison.

I would not finish my degree.

I would not become a normal adult.

I would not pass go. Or collect $200.

So instead of just going home and escaping the crazy ass situation that had just come into my life out of nowhere, I made another right turn at the next intersection I got to so that I could go back around, back to the sketchy street, back to where my car had been attacked, to make sure I had not killed my car attacker.

He was gone.

No dead guy on the street.

If I had broken any toes, I guess it wasn’t enough to stop him leaving the scene.


So that was the night I learned to always check around my vehicle at red lights.

Maybe it’s just the night that turned me paranoid.**


*Fuck relationships. (Did I say that out loud?)

**Then again, there was also this guy, so there you go. RED LIGHTS = DANGER.