My scary evening in Brooklyn.
I never travelled to this city thinking it was going to be all sunshine and roses, or that everyday was going to be something out of a Woody Allen movie. Sure, it’s big, exciting and has been romanticized by folks around the world since it was founded, but this is still an American city. My early experiences here were not all gems I remember fondly, but rather lessons. So here’s what happened.
Brooklyn Bound.
It was my second day in the Big apple back in September 2013. I’d spent the afternoon getting milkshakes in the city and seeing “The Worlds End” (fantastic movie) at the theatre in Union Square. It was late and I was put on a train alone back to Brooklyn by someone I knew (gee thanks.) The train didn’t actually go to my stop at Marcey Avenue but it stopped several streets away so I had to make part of the journey on foot. If it was 4pm, no sweat! This wouldn’t even be a story. Nice little afternoon stroll through Brooklyn’s Williamsburg? Sounds rad to me. However we don’t live in a world of sunshine and lollipops with nice summer walks. It wassome where between 9.30 – 10pm and you couldn’t see a damn thing outside. As I exited the subway, several other commuters emerged looking just as confused as I was and they all asked each other for various locations and street names. I asked a passer by which direction I should head in to find my station, “straight ahead, just keep going.”
After attaining my extremely accurate and not at all vague directions I made my way into the night. I counted each block as I walkedgrowing a little more anxious as the number increased and I still couldn’t see any sign of the station. It’s an over-head train, so whenyou see no sign of anything it’s not exactly the most positive feeling in the world. The moon was out in full (which helped a tad withmy light situation) and at times it sort of felt like it was guiding me through Brooklyn.
The streets had become quiet. Not a soul around. My anxiety was reaching it’s peak when I realized I wouldn’t even be able to stopand ask for directions any more. Just at that moment I started to see a light in the distance pool across the concrete. The closer I gotthe more I could hear voices, so I started feeling a little safer again. When I got close I saw that it was a gas station. “Oooooh Mama!” Ihear as a group of around 7 men suddenly emerge from a stoop by the entrance. My stomach sinks a little as I realize these are notpeople that I should be asking for help, and they’re certainly not the type of people I should make aware that I’m prettttty vulnerableand lost right now. Today is a different story. Today I know New York City especially Brooklyn like the back of my own hand, but backthen I was in way over my head.
“Where you going pretty lady?” one of them asked as the rest of the group muttered less-than gentlemanly phrases about “tearingthat up.” You know when a guy refers to you as a “that” then it’s definitely time to split. I didn’t respond to the guy questioning where Iwas going as I didn’t want to stop and acknowledge them. I picked up the pace and tried to look confident in the direction I washeading. “Yo sweetheart. YO!” I kept walking and as I did I took a quick glance back to see one of the guys nod towards his group asthey then proceeded to follow me.
Oh awesome! This is what I need right now. yay.
The hooting and hollering grew louder as I walked quicker and quicker down the street. As I increased my speed… so did they. Myheart felt like it was going to beat out of my chest as my head started to put together the things that were possibly going to happen next. Two days into being in Brooklyn for the first time… was I about to be mugged? Or assaulted… or maybe worse? It’s not exactly something I could think about for long as I had now began running down the block. I got to the curb and before I could even blink a black sedan comes squealing around the corner and pulls up in front of me. I pause for a second confused as all hell. Was this aboutto turn into a drive by shooting? Wait. I don’t hear any guns. Well at least there’s that! I take a closer look and realize it’s a car service. The door pops open and a kind looking Indian man says quietly but quickly “You might want to get in.”
I turn around and I could see the guys heading this way. I quickly look back inside the sedan and see a photo id / registration across the back seat. “Works for me” I said and quickly hopped in. “You know you probably shouldn’t be here right now, this is not good.” he said with a weird sense of calm. The kind of calm that leads me to think does this just happen all the time? “Tell me about it” I said trying to catch my breath.
Okay. The first 48 hours were over. Brooklyn. What else ya got?