Quote:
Originally posted by Did you just call me Coltrane?
I was jumped while riding my bike in college. It was 2 AM
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I'm late to this discussion, but in the spirit of sharing, I'll tell you about a very similar experience I had. When I told some of my friends about it later, they said it sounded like something out of that movie
After hours, and when I think about it, the string of circumstances seems so weird to me that it almost seems made up. I swear to you it is not.
First of all, I'd like to say that I feel for anyone on this board who has been victimized at one time or another, especially the women who have been victims of sexual attacks. That's a horrible thing to have to experience. My experience was rather mundane in comparison.
I was 21 years old when this incident occured. I was still living with my parents, because I was paying my own way through college. Every night, it was my custom to go out jogging or for a walk either as a break from or after finishing studying. One night I decided to go out for a walk. It was probably around 10:00 or 10:30 or so and it was snowing rather heavily. I didn't jog because the ground was covered and it was rather slippery.
It was the kind of snow that seemed to deaden the sound of people and cars going by, etc. Anyway, I was only 5 blocks from my parent's house when I decided to cut through the parking lot of a small shopping plaza nearby to get to the neighborhood behind it. It was located on a busy street, but the lot was in an area that was below street level, so people going down the street couldn't really see what was going on there.
Anyway, I'm walking along and this young guy, probably my age or a bit younger, steps out of the shadows and asked me if I had a cigarette. It was the way he approached me that gave me a weird feeling, so I looked at him, said, "Sorry, no", and continued on my way. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw something move in the treeline behind the parking lot. Out of the shadows, three other dudes come running full tilt in my direction. I'm already past the first guy, and before I realize it, the first (and biggest) running guy reaches me, and not breaking stride, busts me right in the mouth. I have no idea how I kept my feet when this guy hit me. I'm a pretty big guy, but this dude was linebacker big.
Anyway, the other two hadn't reached me yet, so I turned around and started hauling ass, which means I had to get past the first dude I encountered. I just started screaming for help as I ran the other way. The first guy tried to step in front of me, and I knocked him over as I passed him. I was shouting and trying to head toward the parking lot in front when I hit a patch of ice and wiped out.
The next thing I knew, all four of these fucking guys are kicking me and punching me when I'm on the ground. I tried to stagger to my feet, and I'm just covering up and these guys are just wailing away on me calling me every name in the book, and trying to kick me in the nuts and everything else.
I have no idea how long these guys were pounding on me, because if this kind of stuff ever happens to you, five minutes seems like half an hour. The four of them are circled around me just pounding away. These guys and I were making quite a bit of noise, but nobody was able to hear because of the distance from the street and the snow.
I'm figuring I'm fucked if I keep trying to cover up, because no one is hearing what is going on, so after the last attempt to kick me in the groin, I got pissed, straightened up and swing as hard as I could at the guy who was facing me. It was the first guy that hit me, and luckily, I connected with an uppercut, which stunned him enough, that I was able to turn and get away. This time, I ran the remaining distance towards the street. There was a lot of traffic, so these guys stopped following me.
I couldn't figure out how I was going to get home without going back the way I came. The closest place where there were people I knew was an apartment close by. There was a girl who lived there that I had dated for a while. I knocked on her door and she answered. She freaked out when she saw me. The first thing I did was tell her I was jumped. She let me in, and I walked right past her into her kitchen and asked her where she kept her knives. She locks the door behind her and told me that I wasn't going anywhere. She leads me into the bathroom to clean some of the blood off of me, and I get the first look at myself in the mirror. I looked like some kind of fucked-up Picasso. When I first saw myself, I started shaking like crazy and got sick. She went and called the cops. In the time it took them to get there, I'm just sitting on the floor of her bathroom crying like a fucking baby.
So, the cops show up and take a report. I told them that I had no idea why these guys jumped me without provocation. They never demanded money, because I didn't have any. All I was carrying in my sweatpants was my keys. Anyway, I guess there was some racial crap going on among the high school kids in the area, and the cops figured it had something to do with that. Then, I had to sit and listen to these fucking cops sit there and tell me stories about how they got their asses kicked when they were younger, which, if it was meant to make me feel better, didn't. I don't remember whether the cops offered me a ride home or the hospital or not, but I didn't go with them for some reason. After the cops left, I was determined that I was going to get home by myself, but my friend insisted that I shouldn't walk home. By the time all of this stuff happens, it's like 1:30 in the morning.
Here's the part I wouldn't have believed if it didn't happen. She calls some guy that she knows to give me a lift, because she didn't have a car. He's a real scruffy, hard-looking dude, smaller than me. He walks into her apartment carrying a gym bag. He hangs around a bit talking to her and me, and then he and I walk out to the car so he can drive me home. He and I get into the car, and he places the bag on the floor at my feet. He starts asking me about what happened, but I don't say much, because I'm not in much of a talking mood after talking to the cops. We ride past the lot where these guys beat me, and that's about the only time I look out the window. The rest of the time, I'm just looking down. The reason I'm looking down, is because when I looked at the gym bag, it's unzipped, and there's a sawed-off shotgun laying inside.
So the guy gets to my street, and I'm thinking, "Oh fuck, I'm not sure I want this dude knowing where I live -- he's probably a drug dealer." So, I have him pull up to an apartment two doors down from my parents house, and he drops me off there and leaves. I walk back to my house, let myself in, and didn't sleep the whole night. When my parents woke up the next day, my mother starts freaking out and takes me to the hospital to get checked out.
I never told my parents the whole story about what happened, and I never saw my friend or the guy that gave me the ride after that.
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