Streetwalker

Now that I own a car, I'm giving myself permission to share this experience.

This past summer I set a goal to purge myself of clutter. There was a free shredding event in downtown Ogden, where people can dispose of bank statements and other sensitive information. At this time, I needed to take the bus and walk a bit to get there.

I spent several hours the night before sorting through papers. Before taking the bus downtown the next morning, I walked into the grocery store and weighed my paper pile. It was nearly seven pounds.

After dumping that seven-pound pile into the shredding truck, I could feel myself becoming more organized and glowed with progress.

It was eleven o'clock on a Saturday morning when I was walking back to the bus stop to return home. I was on Adams and 27th Street as I passed a man walking the opposite direction. Hoping to radiate some of my happiness, I smiled and said hi. He smiled back and said, "Hi," in a way that eerily sounded just like someone who caused a great deal of pain in Cutting Free. (And I did not hold back from writing about what he did.)

As I walked up the street, the way this stranger said "hi" echoed in my brain. At least it sounded like I made his day, I tried to tell myself. A few minutes later, a car pulled along the road next to me.

Typically when a car pulls to the sidewalk, it either stops, or someone calls out to ask for directions. This car kept moving slowly, following me as I walked.

Finally I walked over to it, seeing the same man in the driver's seat.

"Do you need a ride?" he asked.

I hesitated. Since not owning a car, I had been asked by three other strangers if I wanted a ride, and I had never turned them down. They took me where I needed to go, we had a nice conversation, and I said thank you. This time felt different. It was almost as if there was a black cloud floating over the passenger seat.

"I don't have too far to walk," I began. Then I paused, feeling bad that he was offering me a ride and I was dismissing him. I said, "Well, I guess you could take me up to the bus stop."

He paused and said, "You're not working?"

At first, I thought he was expecting to take me to an office building, not a bus stop. Then there was a moment of bizarre silence between the both of us as I realized what he was really asking.

I said, "No," and my face froze between a smile and disgust. I'm sure I said something like, "Thanks anyway," to hide my discomfort.

I was so grateful when I saw the bus rounding the corner. The whole way home, I couldn't read or listen to my music.

I still couldn't listen to my music when I got off the bus stop and walked the rest of the way home. I couldn't believe it. I was wearing a t-shirt, a pair of capris, and pink running shoes. Nothing screams prostitute like a pair of bright pink sneakers!

I'd say this guy was in his mid-fifties, with graying hair and a slender build. He was very normal looking, but the way he said hi was not normal. Still, I never would have thought that had been on his mind.

In most cases, people take me to be friendly. To me, it was just a smile and a kind greeting. But I have learned there are some people who will misconstrue friendliness for something else.

It is another reminder to always listen to intuition. Rarely has it been so strong that I actually have visual warnings. That black cloud in his car was not completely real, but it was not completely unreal, either. I kept wondering what would happen if I had stepped inside. Would he have just played innocent and dropped me off at the bus stop? Or would he have grown frustrated, taking it as some kind of rejection and deciding I wasn't going to leave so easily.

Better not to know.