I’m conflicted. For trivial charities, I find I can count on strangers in American cities. Where’s the stairs to the subway, which line to take - I’ve even had people let me navigate using their phones before.
But safety wise, in America’s largest urban hubs, I feel very alone. I have little confidence that if I lit someone’s violent spark on New York public transit that I would be assisted. Probably even less confident on the BART. Or if someone just robbed me in broad daylight.
If I was walking my dog and a stranger sauntered up and kicked her, I’m more confident that I’d get a mob of people on my side compared to if they walked up and kicked me.
So what do I do?
If I’m even passingly familiar with the person, I will rush to their aid.
If it’s a stranger?
Suppose I see a Pretty Russian Woman wailing on the street after a person ran over her dog. I think I’d probably at least see if I could help.
If it was an unkempt, large man… then what?
I can generate arguments like “oh nooo the risk is totally different that guy could be dangerous he doesn’t trim his beard” but they feel like rationalizations. I’ll keep this in mind going forward, and maybe holler at the guy from a safe distance.
Here's a similar story with a wildly different denouement:
One night I had a lady over at my place. We had stayed up very late. We had gotten very drunk. We had finally fallen asleep and we were deeply, deeply asleep when a blood-curdling scream rang out from outside. I mean... this was something out of a horror movie. This was like a "I just had a vision of my own death kind of scream."
I leap out of bed and all my exhaustion and remaining drunkenness is swirling about me. I can see from that point that the sun is up, if barely. The lady wakes up too and I say, I guess I should go out and check on what is going on.
It has never been harder to get clothes on in my life. You know you have to balance a little to get pants on? I hadn't thought about it much till that morning.
So it takes me a minute. I didn't get RIGHT out the door but I got out the door.
I lived three flights up, too, so I wasn't that close to the street.
Anyway.
By the time I get outside, it doesn't take me that long to find the woman in question.
She looked fine. Unharmed. Not even upset.
A woman in her late middle-age and another guy from the neighborhood, probably 15 years young than me, are both already there with her. It looked like the woman had walked straight out from her basement apartment. Maybe the girl had screamed from right outside of it. I can't imagine how loud that would have been considering the way it resonated in my third-floor digs.
It didn't take me long to find out that — all that had actually happened — was she had her purse stolen. Just her purse. Just a snatching.
That's it.
It was all I could do not to say: "Are you fucking kidding me?"
I didn't stick around. The lady seemed to have the matter in hand as they waited for the cops to come, and I think it was her stoop the victim was sitting on.
"Playing loud music" is now my favorite euphemism.
greatest thread in the history of doesthedogdie.com, locked after 12119 pages of "no"
I’m conflicted. For trivial charities, I find I can count on strangers in American cities. Where’s the stairs to the subway, which line to take - I’ve even had people let me navigate using their phones before.
But safety wise, in America’s largest urban hubs, I feel very alone. I have little confidence that if I lit someone’s violent spark on New York public transit that I would be assisted. Probably even less confident on the BART. Or if someone just robbed me in broad daylight.
If I was walking my dog and a stranger sauntered up and kicked her, I’m more confident that I’d get a mob of people on my side compared to if they walked up and kicked me.
So what do I do?
If I’m even passingly familiar with the person, I will rush to their aid.
If it’s a stranger?
Suppose I see a Pretty Russian Woman wailing on the street after a person ran over her dog. I think I’d probably at least see if I could help.
If it was an unkempt, large man… then what?
I can generate arguments like “oh nooo the risk is totally different that guy could be dangerous he doesn’t trim his beard” but they feel like rationalizations. I’ll keep this in mind going forward, and maybe holler at the guy from a safe distance.
Here's a similar story with a wildly different denouement:
One night I had a lady over at my place. We had stayed up very late. We had gotten very drunk. We had finally fallen asleep and we were deeply, deeply asleep when a blood-curdling scream rang out from outside. I mean... this was something out of a horror movie. This was like a "I just had a vision of my own death kind of scream."
I leap out of bed and all my exhaustion and remaining drunkenness is swirling about me. I can see from that point that the sun is up, if barely. The lady wakes up too and I say, I guess I should go out and check on what is going on.
It has never been harder to get clothes on in my life. You know you have to balance a little to get pants on? I hadn't thought about it much till that morning.
So it takes me a minute. I didn't get RIGHT out the door but I got out the door.
I lived three flights up, too, so I wasn't that close to the street.
Anyway.
By the time I get outside, it doesn't take me that long to find the woman in question.
She looked fine. Unharmed. Not even upset.
A woman in her late middle-age and another guy from the neighborhood, probably 15 years young than me, are both already there with her. It looked like the woman had walked straight out from her basement apartment. Maybe the girl had screamed from right outside of it. I can't imagine how loud that would have been considering the way it resonated in my third-floor digs.
It didn't take me long to find out that — all that had actually happened — was she had her purse stolen. Just her purse. Just a snatching.
That's it.
It was all I could do not to say: "Are you fucking kidding me?"
I didn't stick around. The lady seemed to have the matter in hand as they waited for the cops to come, and I think it was her stoop the victim was sitting on.
I went back to bed.
Good grief.