07 December 2002 ~ The sketchy-people parking lot...

Oh yeah, and yesterday, while I was walking to Jürgen's house for dinner, from the bus stop, a car almost ran right over me in the EXACT parking lot where, on the night of Jake's arrest, the cop stopped to talk to me.

The car gave a short blast on its horn, signaling me to get out of the way. But it was MY right of way. I was ON the sidewalk. I debated flipping the car off. Instead, I just gave them a stare: the stare Jake calls me "refugee look." The look of a poor woman just trying to get from one place to another, and encountering ineffable hardships. I'm not a self-pitying person most of the time, but boy can I LOOK like it when I want to. Admittedly, I can really make somebody feel like an asshole, just by giving them this look. I gave the car this look for a good fifteen second as I crossed in front of him.

I KNOW the man in the car shivered, feeling the bitter-cold wind and the discomfort of late-afternoon morning sickness. I'm good at that sometimes. I try not to abuse it, but this dude just about fucken RAN ME OVER. The asshole.

The man looked sad, and kind of ashamed of himself for almost smashing me into roadkill. Then he looked at me again. Then...

The man waved at me.

And smiled.

I tentatively waved back.

And I recognized him... The prosecuting attorney in Jake's case.

In THAT parking lot. There's nothing, NOTHING I can imagine that would appeal to either a sketchy cop or a sketchy lawyer. Why, out of ALL of the people I could meet at THAT exact spot, do I meet fucken cops and lawyers?

*sigh*

I think they should all go visit a nice Starbucks coffeehouse just in time for the next major earthquake.

Dude, he almost RAN OVER me!

Okay, NOW I'm going to go root around under my futon for clues. I just had to get that all out...

~Helena*

Starbucks after the LAST earthquake...