Danger, Danger

I have found myself in dangerous situations, potential crime scenes, really, that could have very well featured me as the helpless victim. I will share three such instances with you.

Note: I do have more experiences of this nature (i.e. Oxford and the Sydney International Airport), but I've lost interest in this topic and will thus write about them some other time.

1) Melbourne, June 2002

I was in the tram with two other friends. But since the tram was full, I was sitting near the front beside an old lady, while my two friends were at the back. From right behind me, I heard someone cursing. Of course, I had to see who it was. It was this twenty-something Aussie guy (from the accent) with dirty yellowish dreadlocks (not the braids but those columnar things that look like bouncy snakes). He was standing behind me, looking at the floor, and cursing for all he was worth.

I was really scared. I could hear him clearly because the tram was very quiet. Everyone was eyeing him warily, thankful, perhaps, that they were seated where they could see him. I was seated in front of him, so I couldn't really see him. But I did twist my body around, not to look at him directly, but to keep him in sight. If I was going to be stabbed or hit, I wanted to at least be given the chance, however poor it was, to avoid the blow.

The old lady beside me nudged me and told me "Don't look." She wasn't Australian. At least, her English wasn't Australian. So I faced front again. The guy didn't stop cursing. I didn't stop praying.

And nothing happened.

2) Kensington Garden, May 2003

This was my second time in London, my first time in Kensington Garden. My courtesy call in the Embassy, with Tita Ubas, Ann Mara, and Milleo, had just finished and I was left on my own. I didn't want to go back to the hotel, which was just a block away from the Embassy, so I decided to explore the garden.

It started of well enough. The weather was cool, and I was happy to be walking alone in a scenic park. I walked farther and farther away, sort of keeping in mind the way back to the hotel. Then I saw the duck pond. I think the pond enchanted me (I don't know why, really, because I rather dislike large birds.) because that's where I got lost. Really. I was seeing the same things - the pond, the grass, the bikers, the walkers - but things were not where I knew them to be. In other words, the path to the main road, where my hotel was situated, was missing.

I kept walking and walking. It was around six in the evening, and I knew better than to hope that it would be like Cape Town, where eight in the evening feels like four in the afternoon. The sun goes to bed late there. At least, it did when I was there, which was on December 2002.

I felt slight panicky. Okay, I felt very panicky. Now I know how Gretel felt when all those crumbs she kept scattering behind her disappeared. Not that I was scattering any crumbs. Then just like that, I found my way back.

The day after, when Ann Mara brought me to the hotel for the Competition, I told him about what had happened. He looked at me, aghast. He said "Why did you go wandering off by yourself? Didn't you know that a young girl was killed there just last week?"

No. I didn't know that.

3) British Museum, May 2003

A few days after the Kensington Experience, I was in the British Museum with my Polish roommate, Woina Ajerack. Since we wanted to see different things (i.e. I had been there before, so I wanted to spend my time in the huge library, while she wanted to see the sculptures.), we decided to meet up at the entrance at five.

Well, I was there a couple of minutes before five, and she wasn't. Having been late a few times myself, I didn't mind her tardiness and so sat there waiting. I was waiting for a long time. The Museum was closing, and she was nowhere to be found. Finally, I arrived at the conclusion that she probably found her way back to the hotel because we went all "invisible Willow" on each other.

Which meant that I would have to find my way back there alone. This was a problem. My roommate was really good with directions, so I had decided to let her handle all that direction-business for the both of us. Bad idea. (In real life, do not do this.) I didn't know how to get back. I asked the guard for directions, but he had none to give.

He called another guard, a Morgan Freeman look-a-like. At this point, I was getting so frustrated that I had almost made my mind up to go outside and get a cab, even if I knew the hotel was five minutes away. Morgan was more helpful. He goes, "Follow me," and starts walking off. Of course, I follow him, happy to be getting somewhere. But then I get very nervous, because we seem to be going through all these dark corridors and secret passageways in the museum. I start preparing myself to run away at the slightest hint of danger. Finally, we arrive at the back entrance of the museum. And I feel stupid because Morgan points at this short street, across which I could already see the hotel.

When I get to the room, Woina is there. She exclaims "There you are! I was so worried."

So was I, Woina.

CHAMELEON SOFIA

There is a God.


Sources of pictures:
Melbourne Tram: www.electric-rly.society.org.uk/photos.htm
Kensington Garden: http://www.apl.ncl.ac.uk/coursework/IThompson/public_parks.htm
British Museum: http://home.online.no/~shammas/british_museum.html