On this bleak summer day, under three banks of low cloud, varied from gray to white, the air breathed thickly.
For the first time in weeks I ventured down into Hamilton for a six-pack of National Bohemian, $5 with tax at the liquor store the Sikh patriarch bought from Inchon John.
The street was blocked for road work at the corner, so there was no traffic.
Rounding the corner past the Mexican road crew and headed past me were two hero thugs, sharply uniformed in brand new black cargo shorts—creased, white wife beater under a starched white T-shirts, carrying liquor store bags and smartphones, wearing brand new white Nike sneakers. Both were well-built, one a lightweight at 5' 8" and the other a welterweight at 5' 11". They were between 18 and 21 years old.
They approached five feet to my right, my left to the fence, up on the sidewalk, angled for the other side of the street were the walk is wider.
I regarded them without turning my head and changing my pace.
The tall one then said something as they came with in six paces of passing, placed his right hand on the other guy's left shoulder and began steering him into me, saying something instructional in his ear.
As the small one took his first step into the gutter, I turned my head to look into him and he bulked at his instigator and side-stepped past me as the other smacked his lips in disgust, lost his push hand and shook his head, the both of them resuming their course toward the other side of the street.
I continued on my way to enjoy my only daylight stroll in Hamilton for at least a month, privileged to see another day in the death of a deserving city.
People sometimes ask me how come so many such acts of testing aggression happen to me and not them, seemingly oblivious to the fact that the only ones who ask this idiot question drive, and wouldn't walk somewhere in Baltimore by themselves if you paid them. The pedestrians I talk to, like Little Dave, who was attacked last Friday, they understand.
Welcome to Harm City, White-Boy
I notice that in addition to documenting all the times that predators have stalked or considered you (and someone who doesn't have their eyes open might not even know they've been stalked), you've also written about the times you went out looking to see if something would happen ....
... and nothing did. It's not like you get attacked every time you go out ....
The ratio is quite low and I have not factored it, so I will begin keeping count. I'm guessing it is around 1 in 20 walks, that someone openly considers or attempts aggression on me.
The implications are positive, in a way, in that the lack of people on the streets, on the bus that I now take alone just before midnight, and the large reduction in motorists—far below the rate of urban flight—means that a large proportion of Baltimoreans know that there is a threat and elect to stay indoors.
Also, any time I go out looking to witness criminal activity I am not selected, which means I give off a different read in my body language than when I walk about for other reasons.
Thanks for kickstarting my brain on this angle.
"... 1 in 20 walks, that someone openly considers or attempts aggression on me..."
You say,"The ratio is quite low", but hell no that a very large number compared to your average suburb or anywhere where reasonable people live.
The whole country will eventually be like this if steps are not taken. Guerilla war against the Blacks would stop this over time. It also would take away the police problem, as Whites would only attack when it's in their favor. It's what Blacks do to Whites. The only thing stopping a complete wipe out of Blacks is the decency of Whites.