Darkness shrouds the streets of Portland early during an evening in December of 2002.
(I was hospitalized on a psych ward for three, two-week stays between September 2002 and November 2002 due to mood-disorder-episodes I was experiencing on a medication that a quackprescribed me beyond efficacy duration. People whom I knew (family and the quack) implored me and literally shouted at me to take it, which I was doing: taking it!
The medication that I was prescribed was poison to my mind and body and caused me to act out in strange mannerisms. It also caused my two sodium seizures from thirst of too much water. I took the medication from May of 1996 to December of 2002. I was to join a class action suit against the manufacturer of the medication in ensuing years and win a settlement.
During the fall of 2002, I was not only hospitalized on a psych ward three different times for two week periods each: but, I now have the bragging rights of having been in at least ten paddy wagons, cruisers and ambulances without ever being arrested as of September 15, 2012 while I write this piece).
Lori (who had been with me during the episodes throughout the fall of 2002) and I are in my first floor apartment at a three story house among many three story houses along a side street in Portland. She and I are feeling frisky when she sends me to the pharmacy to buy condoms during an evening in December of 2002.
I await oncoming vehicles to pass in the darkness shrouding the corner crosswalk about to turn left back home to Lori, turn left and stop short within five feet of a tall, muscular black man and an overweight, short white woman pushing a stroller with baby walking caddy corner outside of the painted, white lines of the crosswalk in the middle of the street.
Suddenly, the black man turns to face me in the driver's seat while his wife is pushing the stroller to the sidewalk. He holds a black flash light which was not lit as I turned left and he yells obscenities at me hitting the vehicle hood with the heavy duty flash light while switching it on and off pointing it at me through the windshield.
I think that he is going to wrestle me out of the vehicle. So, I gas the engine and drive forward down the street. As I pull away from the black man with a flashlight, he hits my vehicle's right hand side headlamp with his flashlight attempting to break it.
I park in front of the house down the street, jump out of my vehicle, check the right hand side headlamp and see the black man running down the sidewalk towards me. His wife follows hurriedly walking the stroller. He reaches me in front of the house, grabs my neck clawing it and raises the flashlight with his right hand as if about to hit me in the head with it.
"You almost hit my baby!" he shouts clawing at my neck holding the flashlight up for a pendulum hit to my head.
"But, I didn't! Your baby is fine! Your baby is right there. Don't hit me with that!" I retort.
His wife is standing on the sidewalk with stroller behind her husband who is on the edge of the curb while I am a step down from the curb and shorter than what seems like a rampant monstrosity about to hit me hard with a flashlight while clawing my neck in the dim, street lamp darkness on the street.
"You almost hit my baby!" he repeats shouting.
"But, I didn't! Your baby is right there! I would never want to hurt your baby! Don't hit me!" I shout back at him cringing.
"Don't talk about my baby!" he retorts bracing to hit me.
"But, I didn't hit the baby! The baby is right there. Your baby is fine! I'm NOT drunk! Don't hit me!"
Out of the corner of my eye as the big, black man is clawing my neck about to hit me, I notice a neighbor who lives around the corner drive by with his mother in a white SUV. They don't stop, but do rubberneck.
The man releases his hold on my neck and steps back from the curb standing beside his wife and stroller. Lori had appeared on the front steps of the first floor apartment having heard a commotion and proceeds to shout at the angry black man after he releases his hold on my neck and steps back from me and the curb.
Lori yells a racist epithet at the mixed race couple as they are taking steps walking away down the block while the black man is walking backwards keeping an eye on Lori and me.
"I'll get you too, bitch!" the man yells back at Lori.
"Don't listen to her! Don't listen to her!" I tell him stepping up from the curb onto the sidewalk.
The man and his wife pushing the stroller disappear down the block into the night and I climb the five front steps into the apartment with Lori locking the front door behind us.
"You shouldn't have said that to him. I had it under control," I say to Lori.
"Well, I heard something and came out."
"I know. You almost made it worse. He let go."
"Yeah. Maybe you're right."
A loud knock on the door startled us. Lori and I think it is the black man at the door.
"Could that be him again!?" I ask Lori.
Lori looks dumbfounded. Again, a loud knock and then:
"Open up! Police!"
I take reticent steps to the front door from the living area where Lori and me had been hashing and open it for two uniformed officers: a male and a female officer. The black man and wife with stroller stand on the sidewalk in the dark looking up at me and the two officers at the front door. I am about to step out onto the front porch with the two officers and they indicate that they want entrance to the apartment. I step back from the front door into the living area with Lori and me standing in the living area. The two officers ask me what happened.
"I was making the left onto the street here and they were in the street. I stopped in time and was waiting for them to walk away when the man started hitting my truck and yelling at me. I thought he was going to pull me out of the truck. So, I drove ahead and parked. When I got here, he came running down the street and grabbed me by the neck and was going to hit me."
"And then what happened?"
"Well, I convinced him not to hit me and he let go. I came inside and we thought you were him."
"Look at his neck! It has blood on it," Lori chimed.
My leg shook with a reflex standing in the living area with the two officers and Lori. The policewoman notices my leg shake as of reflex.
"I'm just a little scared. That's all," I say to her noticing my leg shake.
"Well, he was in the crosswalk," the policewoman replies.
I reply nothing.
The two officers leave as I step behind them to lock the front door. I look out of the side window to see the couple with a stroller walk away into the darkness once again and I step out of the front door to the cruiser parked across the street with an officer in the driver's seat.
"So? What happened? Are they coming back?" I ask the male officer in the idling cruiser.
"No. I told them to go on their way and not come back tonight."
"OK. Thank you."
Lori and I do not sleep at my apartment that night.
The medication that I was prescribed was poison to my mind and body and caused me to act out in strange mannerisms. It also caused my two sodium seizures from thirst of too much water. I took the medication from May of 1996 to December of 2002. I was to join a class action suit against the manufacturer of the medication in ensuing years and win a settlement.
During the fall of 2002, I was not only hospitalized on a psych ward three different times for two week periods each: but, I now have the bragging rights of having been in at least ten paddy wagons, cruisers and ambulances without ever being arrested as of September 15, 2012 while I write this piece).
Lori (who had been with me during the episodes throughout the fall of 2002) and I are in my first floor apartment at a three story house among many three story houses along a side street in Portland. She and I are feeling frisky when she sends me to the pharmacy to buy condoms during an evening in December of 2002.
I await oncoming vehicles to pass in the darkness shrouding the corner crosswalk about to turn left back home to Lori, turn left and stop short within five feet of a tall, muscular black man and an overweight, short white woman pushing a stroller with baby walking caddy corner outside of the painted, white lines of the crosswalk in the middle of the street.
Suddenly, the black man turns to face me in the driver's seat while his wife is pushing the stroller to the sidewalk. He holds a black flash light which was not lit as I turned left and he yells obscenities at me hitting the vehicle hood with the heavy duty flash light while switching it on and off pointing it at me through the windshield.
I think that he is going to wrestle me out of the vehicle. So, I gas the engine and drive forward down the street. As I pull away from the black man with a flashlight, he hits my vehicle's right hand side headlamp with his flashlight attempting to break it.
I park in front of the house down the street, jump out of my vehicle, check the right hand side headlamp and see the black man running down the sidewalk towards me. His wife follows hurriedly walking the stroller. He reaches me in front of the house, grabs my neck clawing it and raises the flashlight with his right hand as if about to hit me in the head with it.
"You almost hit my baby!" he shouts clawing at my neck holding the flashlight up for a pendulum hit to my head.
"But, I didn't! Your baby is fine! Your baby is right there. Don't hit me with that!" I retort.
His wife is standing on the sidewalk with stroller behind her husband who is on the edge of the curb while I am a step down from the curb and shorter than what seems like a rampant monstrosity about to hit me hard with a flashlight while clawing my neck in the dim, street lamp darkness on the street.
"You almost hit my baby!" he repeats shouting.
"But, I didn't! Your baby is right there! I would never want to hurt your baby! Don't hit me!" I shout back at him cringing.
"Don't talk about my baby!" he retorts bracing to hit me.
"But, I didn't hit the baby! The baby is right there. Your baby is fine! I'm NOT drunk! Don't hit me!"
Out of the corner of my eye as the big, black man is clawing my neck about to hit me, I notice a neighbor who lives around the corner drive by with his mother in a white SUV. They don't stop, but do rubberneck.
The man releases his hold on my neck and steps back from the curb standing beside his wife and stroller. Lori had appeared on the front steps of the first floor apartment having heard a commotion and proceeds to shout at the angry black man after he releases his hold on my neck and steps back from me and the curb.
Lori yells a racist epithet at the mixed race couple as they are taking steps walking away down the block while the black man is walking backwards keeping an eye on Lori and me.
"I'll get you too, bitch!" the man yells back at Lori.
"Don't listen to her! Don't listen to her!" I tell him stepping up from the curb onto the sidewalk.
The man and his wife pushing the stroller disappear down the block into the night and I climb the five front steps into the apartment with Lori locking the front door behind us.
"You shouldn't have said that to him. I had it under control," I say to Lori.
"Well, I heard something and came out."
"I know. You almost made it worse. He let go."
"Yeah. Maybe you're right."
A loud knock on the door startled us. Lori and I think it is the black man at the door.
"Could that be him again!?" I ask Lori.
Lori looks dumbfounded. Again, a loud knock and then:
"Open up! Police!"
I take reticent steps to the front door from the living area where Lori and me had been hashing and open it for two uniformed officers: a male and a female officer. The black man and wife with stroller stand on the sidewalk in the dark looking up at me and the two officers at the front door. I am about to step out onto the front porch with the two officers and they indicate that they want entrance to the apartment. I step back from the front door into the living area with Lori and me standing in the living area. The two officers ask me what happened.
"I was making the left onto the street here and they were in the street. I stopped in time and was waiting for them to walk away when the man started hitting my truck and yelling at me. I thought he was going to pull me out of the truck. So, I drove ahead and parked. When I got here, he came running down the street and grabbed me by the neck and was going to hit me."
"And then what happened?"
"Well, I convinced him not to hit me and he let go. I came inside and we thought you were him."
"Look at his neck! It has blood on it," Lori chimed.
My leg shook with a reflex standing in the living area with the two officers and Lori. The policewoman notices my leg shake as of reflex.
"I'm just a little scared. That's all," I say to her noticing my leg shake.
"Well, he was in the crosswalk," the policewoman replies.
I reply nothing.
The two officers leave as I step behind them to lock the front door. I look out of the side window to see the couple with a stroller walk away into the darkness once again and I step out of the front door to the cruiser parked across the street with an officer in the driver's seat.
"So? What happened? Are they coming back?" I ask the male officer in the idling cruiser.
"No. I told them to go on their way and not come back tonight."
"OK. Thank you."
Lori and I do not sleep at my apartment that night.
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