“So this is how it ends..” was all I was thinking as a teenager in a stolen car had a gun in my face out their window. This was shortly after Katrina hit and these were a car full of high schoolers with the distinct N’awlins accent and hair style, clearly not from Houston. Statistically, this age group of 15-18 are probably the most unpredictable for violent crime, which is why crime rates spike in the summer when kids are not in school. There was a stretch of time around then with a significant spike in violent crime in the area due to turf wars with the evacuees and locals not too far from where I lived/was at the time. New murders were in the paper daily for weeks. I was a high school teacher who had kids in class who were also storm evacuees, so I actually made the driver laugh out of an instinctual joke I said about them ‘being lost’ while being 100′ from the freeway access street, and how they needed to ‘stay in school’, and said I’m a ‘broke teacher with no cash’ as I handed them my money clip that was empty of cash, just my ID and debit card. The driver actually told the passenger with the gun to give me my money back because I was funny and a teacher, and somewhat apologized. Luckily, I have had a lot of experience dealing with at-risk youth, and was able to rely on instinct to survive. My friend who was with me was standing a few strides behind me was more shaken up than I was and was certain I was going to get shot, especially as the kid with the gun was becoming more agitated that I was laughing at him for being lost and probably offended by my ‘stay in school’ comment. It was very slow motion as the Dodge Magnum with dark tinted windows pulled up to us after running over a curb leaving the Wendy’s exit about 200′ down the road from where we were leaving the apartment complex, and then when it turned toward us after we did our normal cut through street on the way to a bar that was literally on the other side of that Wendy’s I knew it was bad news. As the car pulled up next to us the gun came out and pointed directly into my face at about a 3 foot distance. We were in an isolated cut through street that had no witnesses anywhere around, it was dark and poorly lit, and that post-Katrina environment was very violent around town, so I don’t think I survive that 8 out of 10 times. Caused a lot of PTSD after the fact, though at the time I remember just feeling very shaky and confused as to why I was not killed immediately after and for a few hours after that.
The vivid and very violent, bloody dreams I had for months following that finally went away. I developed alopecia on my beard/face for about 2-3 years after, as well. The biggest spot was actually heart-shaped, and my students would comment on that a few times, which was always awkward. I guess I’ve gotten over that, although there is a chance I’m a ghost who simply haunts this apartment property area, since I’ve now lived here for over 20 years and work from home and don’t get off the compound that often, haha…
There may also be an instance of karma in play, as 15 minutes before we left for the bar we had arrived back at the apartment from a different spot and this was the fall back plan if that was lame, which it was. On the drive back from that first spot, there was of all things a Jesus statue that was about the size of a mannequin that had fallen off the back of a pick up truck and was in the middle of the freeway, and I called 911 to report that. My good deed may have put things in alignment for me to survive.
In all seriousness, that incident caused me to reevaluate life and to pursue my ‘wants’ more directly and aggressively, since there is no guarantee you’ll be here tomorrow. That changed how i look at things. Something as simple as walking to a bar may be the last thing you do.
A Dollar Out of Fifteen Cents 