Shit!
I saw them as soon as I entered the alley, close to midnight.
I was about twenty meters into the narrow lane, lined with dumpsters at the back of the Drop-In Centre which faced Yonge Street, and could still turn around to take the subway home.
I cursed Steve under my breath; why had he not offered to walk me back to pick up my bike? I would have declined, but needed someone to blame for the predicament I instantly knew I was in. We had attended an obligatory work function, grabbed a beer afterwards, and parted ways.
Now here I was; alone in the alley with two hooded figures visible in the alcove to the backdoor of the Drop-In and, more pertinent to my situation, the door to the bicycle room where I had left my bike after work.
I hate the subway, and decided to put my nose in the air pretending all was well, while sniffing out the danger with every step—like a hunting dog with its nose in the wind. I mean, does society not instil all kinds of ungrounded fears which cause us to live like hunted animals always on the lookout for the next predator, while we were simply created to live in community?
I came up to them now, and saw there were two guys—in their early thirties maybe—wearing black hoodies. As soon as they saw me, one of them asked if I could give him some shoes. He obviously was familiar with the Drop-In services. He proceeded to tell me he had just gotten out of jail, still wearing his blue canvas step-ins.
My first thought was, great I really hit the jackpot! and my previous lofty ideas about community were replaced with, why were you inside? But of course I didn’t ask, did not want to know the answer right this moment.
Only for the retelling of the story might this have been of interest, which was very secondary to the fact that I was one female on two males—one of which an ex-con—alone in an alcove in an alley. I was painfully aware that I was living a story, but there were too many potential bad endings to worry about gathering descriptive details.
I told them the Drop-In was closed right now, and even coming back tomorrow might not be helpful since we only serve youth—maybe the Scott Mission? As I spoke I took out my keys and opened the bike-room door.
An alarm went off.
In my head.
The other guy spoke up and asked me if I wanted to buy a phone, he pulled one out of his pocket and showed me an iPhone. I walked the fifteen feet towards the back of the bicycle room and kept talking while I unlocked my bike.
In my mind I was somewhere else: one exit, two guys blocking the way to a deserted alley—the perfect rape-scene tape playing, minus the music.
I responded casually, “No thanks I am fine, I don’t really need a phone, I have one.”
The next question followed immediately, if he could use my phone to make a call?
By this time I was fully aware I was an idiot and more things could go wrong than I would ever be able to justify for simply hating to take the subway. Even the Toronto transit system has a limit as to what risks you are willing to take to avoid it.
I asked if I could give him change to make the call? I took out my wallet and wondered why I had deemed it better to lose my wallet over my phone? At least my phone was a work-phone and, after all, I was on property, even though I was pretty sure this would not qualify as a work incident. To my surprise he said, “Ok,” took the change and followed up with a, “Thanks.”
I had my bike out the door and was locking up. They smiled, said thank you one more time, and walked off.
I stepped on my bike.
I was laughing; partly from relief, partly at how I would explain this to anyone, but mostly because society with all its labels and assumptions had been proven wrong.
My euphoria originated from the substantiation of faith in humanity.
It stemmed from the sanctioning of disregard for the predictable, disregard for the fear of the unknown, disregard for prejudice, profiling, distrust.
The presuppositions of my perceptions, and what those perceptions had turned people into—like monsters under your bed which are never really there but very real in your mind—had vanished and gave me a feeling of exhilarating freedom.