2.7.00

I haven't reported that early last week a man got off the bus with me and followed me home. We called 911 to have him removed. It was late, of course - I work late. I had been talking for most of the ride with Trevor, who works in my building. After he got off, I looked around to find myself in the middle of a bus of strange smiling men. It's not like I was the only woman on the bus, but something about the animation of conversation, or something, must have made me some kind of target. The man sitting behind me, who had gotten on at McDonald's with what smelled like a Big Mac - he ate it on the bus - leaned up to ask me for the time. His speech was awkward and difficult to understand. I gave him the time and for a moment he just looked at me, like he didn't understand what I had said. His aggies were out of round: he was obviously mentally impaired. I didn't think anything else about it until I was off the bus and crossing the street, when I noticed that same man running against a red light to my side of the street. Once caught up with me, he walked just a few feet behind. I crossed the street again and again, eventually just walking down the middle of it. He followed. When an oncoming car swung around the corner as I was straddling the yellow line, the man exhaled, "Ohh, watch out!" I picked up the pace and put some distance between us. It was late enough that no one was out and the café up the street from my house was closed. The man saw me enter the house, despite the half block of sidewalk separating us. In, the door locked and chained, I said to Joan: A man has followed me home and now he's approaching the door. He knocked. Joan freaked: Are we going to have to call 911?! Yes. Which is what I did and how we passed the next ten minutes or so while the man knocked, re-knocked, stepped into the yard to peer into our windows, snooped around the car, etc. A policewoman came and he showed her his bus transfer slip. She poked around at his clothing and talked to him a little bit before the two of them walked off to the patrol car. And that was that. I didn't have the sense that he would attack me, just that he wanted to follow. I thought about it though and prepared a course of action if he did make some kind of move. I was shielded by a very heavy laptop case and wielding a pointy umbrella. He was scrawny and hunched over. I figured as long as he didn't have a gun, I could level him.

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