Assaulted at the gas station

I was assaulted a few days ago.  The experience shook me to the core and made me realize how lucky I am.  

So, I work from 8 AM to 4:30 PM Monday through Friday for a library system.  I stop at the same gas station every morning on my way to work, usually for a fountain drink, a donut, cheetos, or candy.  I'm a creature of habit, always parking in the same spot if it's available.  A few days ago, I tried to park in my usual spot at the gas station, and accidentally tapped the car perpendicular to me.  The other car was not parked within the lines, which was why I misjudged the space.  It was the lightest of taps, causing no damage, but I was prepared to apologize to the other driver.  


However, by the time I stood up out of my car, the other driver was already around hers and yelling at me. I tried to show her that our cars were both undamaged, but she would not let me speak.  She was irate, with crazy eyes and crazier hair.  She was waving her arms and screaming, "You stupid bitch!" over and over.  Then, while I was still staring dumbfounded at her, she began shoving me and saying, "Oh no. Oh no. Oh no."  It was like she was possessed.  At about this time, my adrenaline kicked in and I began to both notice my surroundings and take defensive measures.  There was a gas station employee standing on the curb right by our cars, and she was trying to get the crazy lady's attention away from me.  Some other people were standing around watching.  My immediate instinct was to GET AWAY.  I gave one last fleeting thought to my  fountain drink, opened my car door, and attempted to get back inside my car.

My assailant gave no quarter.  She kept screaming and cursing me, and now she was using my car door as a weapon.  Using all her strength and rage with both arms, she was repeatedly smacking me with the car door, which painfully squeezed me against the car. All I could do was try to brace myself against the car door with my left forearm, which caused my right shoulder to smash into the car over and over.  At this point, my hindbrain was on full alert, signaling flee flee flee flee flee flee.  I don't know how long it took, but I managed to get inside my car. The crazy lady was screaming and attacking me with the car door the whole time. Even inside my car, I did not feel safe.  The crazy lady was still waving her arms and shouting at me.  So I left.

Looking back, I realize that I must have been in shock, because I drove all the way the work.  That's about 20 miles from the gas station.  I remember calling my husband on the way, hysterically crying as I tried to tell him what happened. He kept telling me to turn around and come home, but I was adamant about going to work.  So I showed up at work, went directly to my supervisor, and tried to tell him what happened.  Poor guy. He clearly had no idea what to do with me, as I had become hysterical again.  My husband called me while I was in my supervisor's office, and he convinced me to drive back home so he could take me to the police station.

Apparently, the gas station employees had called the police and reported the incident.  They had also written down the license plate number and type of car the crazy lady had been driving.  My husband convinced me to press charges.  I picked my assailant's mugshot from a photo lineup.  She was already in the system, having been arrested in the recent past.  The police went around to the address associated with the car she was driving, but she was not there.  The officer working the case told me he'd call with any developments.  It's been 5 days.

I sustained a bleeding scratch on my cheek, a large bruise on my left forearm, and several bruises around my right shoulder.

It could've been worse. I had a canister of pepper spray within reach the entire time, but I didn't even think about it. I could've fought back, but I'm glad I didn't.  Escalation is bad.

And I know I'm very lucky to have made it to age 37 before being involved in this type of physical altercation. 

The bruises are 5 days old in this picture.

My Experience With White Privilege

Okay, let me paint a picture here:  It's 1999, I was 16, I had my license, a car, and a part-time job at Dairy Queen.  I typically worked Saturdays and Sundays during the school year, and expanded my hours during the summer. I was in 10th grade, I was a mostly-A student, and I attended all the football games because I was in the band (tenor sax). I had a few close friends, lots of crushes, but no boyfriend.  I lived in a stable, 2-parent home of modest means.  My favorite thing to do was read, and I could read a book a day.  You might say I was living the typical life of a teenager, albeit a nerdy one.

One evening, probably around midnight or later, I was ending my late shift at DQ.  I gave a coworker a ride home, and headed home myself.  Now, my parents lived 13 miles away from the Dairy Queen, most of it outside town, and I usually made this drive with the radio blaring and no regard for the speed limit.  I also had a bad tendency to daydream while driving.  So I'm driving along Midwest Blvd, singing to the radio, when I notice flashing lights behind me.  I don't remember a siren, but I did have the music up loud, so who knows? That detail is lost in time.  Anyway. I have no idea how long the cop has been behind me, but I'm choosing to believe I noticed it sooner rather than later.  So, I panic.  I've never been pulled over before, and I want to do it correctly, so I'm freaking out wondering what stretch of road I should pull over on, am I supposed to signal, etc.  I quickly went from going 68 mph to around 20 mph.  I was still undecided as to what I should do as I approached 29th street, and the light went red.

So I stopped for the light.  I believe I was thinking something along the lines of "I shouldn't run a red light while a cop is tailing me." So I STOPPED FOR THE LIGHT.  Meanwhile, the cop had called for backup, so by the time I turned left onto 29th street there were a total of FOUR police cars following me.  I was losing my shit trying to figure out where to pull over, and yes, I'm still driving very slowly.  Crawling, really.  With 4 police cars behind me.  I remember I crossed a bridge because I didn't know if it was okay to pull over on the bridge.  I finally almost parked, but had to keep moving when I saw the fire hydrant.  I remembered from the Oklahoma Driver Manuel that you're not supposed to block fire hydrants, and I was trying to not make matters worse.

So, after leading the police on a mile-long low-speed chase, I pulled to a stop just beyond the fire hydrant.  I remember I rolled down the window, but the cop suggested I get out of the car. Suddenly, I'm standing by a female cop while a few other cops investigate my car and one male cop (the first one to follow me) asks me questions.  I don't remember a lot of them, but I do recall him asking why I was speeding, why I was out so late, and why it took me so long to pull over. I probably said that I wasn't aware I was speeding.  I do know that I told him I was driving home from work, because he said I was out past curfew.  I also remember explaining that I had never been pulled over before, so I wasn't sure of the process.  In hindsight, I'm sure I came off as a total spazz.  Meanwhile, the other officers started leaving.  They gave the car a thorough search, but since it was my dad's car, they didn't find anything incriminating.  Haha, just a bunch of computer-related equipment and junk in the backseat.  No gun, no drugs, just a stupid teenage girl.

I ended up with a reckless driving ticket, however, I did get the distinct feeling that the main cop was very aggravated with me, and at the fact that the worst he could do to me was that reckless driving citation.  I wish I could remember what he said to me.

It's been 20 years since that night, and I've never done more than laugh about it in remembrance.  My dad has been known to tell the story while laughing and slapping his knee, like it's a family joke.  Don't get me wrong- it definitely is a family joke to us, and especially to my dad, but now I look back and think about how lucky I was.  I'm white. As white as it gets.  Blonde and blue.  I'm female.  20 years ago, I was a silly teenage girl-next-door.  At no time during this incident was I handcuffed or roughed-up or restrained in any way. I don't think I was body-searched. I was allowed to remain free-standing next to the female cop while the others searched the car.  The officers just kind of deflated when I stepped out of the car and revealed my teenage ditzy self.  My WHITE FEMALE teenage ditzy self.