Midnight. One of the busiest streets in the downtown area. People are just heading out - it's a Friday night after all. My friend and I are walking towards a subway station. I'm glad the night is about to end early, and I could finally catch up on some of the sleep lost this busy week.
Suddenly we get approached by a black male seemingly in his early thirties, no taller than 5'8-5'9, clad in copper-colored loose clothing and a ball cap.
"Yo, yo, pretty girl", he heads directly towards me.
I don't even look in his direction.
"Want some drugs?", he continues bluntly.
"Please, don't say anything", I hope my friend is telepathic. "Or at least pretend you don't speak English".
"We don't do drugs, heh!", she boldly responds instead.
"Yo, pretty girl, want some drugs?", he insists, yet his demeanor immediately changes from friendly to caustic.
"Pretty white girls get drugs from me every night!!", he continues.
"Why would "pretty white girls" get drugs from you every night?", I want him to humor me.
"BECAUSE I FUCK 'EM!", he almost yells.
"YOU THINK DRUGS ARE FREE?!?! I FUCK PRETTY WHITE GIRLS EVERY NIGHT FOR DRUGS!!!"
I shrug and keep walking, leaving him yelling in the background.
We reach the subway station, stop, chat for a few minutes. Mandatory girly hugs ensue.
My friend politely wonders, "should I walk you home, or are you going to be okay?"
"No need, I walk here every night, I'll be fine!"
She finally leaves, and I head home.
I always walk fast.
In fact, I get rather irritated when I am forced to maneuver around a certain class of people I refer to as "sleeping beauties".
I also whip out my phone. Immediately.
I call a trusted person, because the incident amused me to no end. After all, maybe he isn't aware of the fact that "pretty white girls like me get fucked for drugs. Every day."
Does he think it was a threat?
He thinks there was not much I could do.
I hang up the phone. The drug dealer dives out on my left. Immediately.
"It's you again", he sneers.
"Are you following me?"
We are several blocks away from the initial meeting point.
"STUPID WHITE BITCH! I AM NOT FUCKING FOLLOWING YOU!"
I walk faster.
"ALL STUPID WHITE BITCHES ARE THE SAME!"
People raise eyebrows.
"If you don't leave me alone, I will call the police".
Originality didn't seem like the correct choice of words.
"YOU STUPID WHITE BITCH!!!!!!! ALL STUPID WHITE BITCHES ARE THE SAME!!!!!!! YOU HATE BLACKS!!!!!!!! MICHAEL JACKSON, KOBE BRYANT!!!!!!!"
We are getting further away from the heavily populated part of town.
"STUPID WHITE BITCH, YOU SHOULD BE SCARED!!!!!!!!"
This area, usually busy with police cars at all hours of the day and night, is deserted.
"YOU THINK YOU'RE SAFE??????!!!!!!"
I really doubt those hookers on the corner will be of much help.
He suddenly crosses the street, but walks parallel to me. He continues yelling.
"STUPID WHITE BITCH!!!!!!!!!!!!", he approaches random passers-by and points in my direction.
He yells unintelligibly and disappears in the shadows of a park, avoided by every local after sunset. He seems to be quite familiar with the neighborhood.
Am I shaking?
I am home.
I feel uncomfortable.
I ask a security guard to join me as I walk my dog.
After hearing my story, this guard jokingly advises me to wear a burka for disguise.
Maybe I should.