The real problem with butt-ass cold weather
You may remember that in December, I was wandering around the neighborhood in single-digit temps in an effort to get rid of a headache. I mentioned that the sidewalks contained nothin' but me and the snow-tumbleweeds, and that contrary to my understanding of criminal behavior, a couple of local rapists had decided to take advantage of this situation by attacking women. One got caught but one didn't.
I realized that, while the hobbyist attacker might operate in nicer weather, bitter cold is really ideal for the dedicated predator. First, he has an excuse for being wrapped to the eyes. Second, the streets are deserted. And third, the few
windblown pedestrians are also wrapped to the eyes and hunched over just trying to get the hell back to their warm apartments, i.e. not likely to see a stalker.
Well, it got super-cold again last week, plus it snowed every day. The other rapist decided to ply his trade
in our vestibule. He jumped our neighborh, who luckily fought him off. We heard screaming but wrote it off as the usual Wrigleyville woo-hoo nonsense until we heard sirens, doorbell-ringing and door-pounding from the cops. Now the inside of our front door is covered with fingerprint dust and this morning a TV crew was out front interviewing girls about how scared they were.
I don't know what the hell to do about this. Last Wednesday when I came home from school (around 9:45) I got Colliculus to pick me up at the L stop. But I have class twice a week for four more months and that just seems ridiculous. Plus it's not all that much better the rest of the week when I get home at 7:45. I could get pepper spray but what, am I going to walk around with my finger on the trigger and wave it around to demonstrate my badness?
What I really want is a nightstick. Something that is simple but visible and says don't fuck with me. It has to fit in my backpack, too, or they probably won't let me on the train. I wish I still had the
tire thumper given to me by
Lauramander a few years back.
