Of all things, I got assaulted on the bus. Yes, you read right. Not having a car, I’ve been commuting on the bus ever since my move here to Seattle.
Apparently I was lucky enough to have a mental case board my bus about a week ago. When he was thrown out the bus (after bothering me and another girl), he broke a bus window. I got off soon after on what was my stop, only to have mental-case-dude start following me out of seemingly nowhere.
Talk about freaking out.
I began to walk away but he was screaming incoherently, demanding attention. At some point he got upset because I was ignoring him, and reaching toward me, managed to rip a button off my dress.
Thankfully, this little damsel in distress was quick enough to deliver him a swift open palm strike and run fast.
What followed was true movie material. I was in hysterics and called a friend of mine. He came over immediately, and insisted I call the police. So I did.
Before I knew it, an officer arrived at my place and took a written statement. Followed by some paramedics after I started having a panic attack. Once I was back to semi-normalcy, a sketch artist was called into the adventure. Yes, you read right. A freaking sketch artist. Then they took my dress for DNA evidence.
Two days later, a private detective contacted me, and asked if I felt up to identifying the mental-case-dude from a photo montage she had created. So I did.
After pointing him out from the other shots, she confirmed the bus driver had pointed out the same guy. Fortunately for us, mental-case-dude was stupid enough to leave perfect finger imprints on the bus window he broke.
Mental-case-dude is on file for over 66 misdemeanors.
Two days later, the private detective called to inform me that mental-case-dude had been apprehended and is currently booked in jail.
All of this took place in scarcely 5 days.
I’m suddenly thankful that life was not been a walk in the park for me, because otherwise I’m afraid I would have plummeted under the stress of those 5 days. What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. Or so the song says.
And now, I have a bizarre story to share on the blog. And maybe for the future grandkids as well.