"Go against me, dawg... you're making a mistake"

   I was working in Boston, Halloween, 2003.

   Due to the forty mile commute each way I had, I used to occasionally take the water shuttle from Hingham to North Station (the old Boston Garden). This didn't save me much money, but a boat is faster than a car in Boston's gridlock. When I broke my leg, it became my primary means of getting to work.

   I didn't work at the Boston Garden, so I had to hoof it the rest of the way. This involved going behind the old Garden, and down a wharf to the general area of the Nashua Street Jail. It was a decrepit wharf, and no one really goes back there for anything, except to cut through. Even in a cast, this isn't as bad as it sounds- it took me maybe 10 minutes. 

   Not too bad at all, most mornings... the evenings were a different story, though.

   The wharf behind the old Gahhhhhhhhhden is about one or two hundred years old... maybe 300, even. It is utterly decrepit, and not really safe for walking on- for a variety of reasons. It is behind an abandoned factory as well, and is as lonely a place as exists in this huge, cramped metropolis.

   As I hobbled down the pier with the setting sun that evening, Halloween was only on my mind as a "gotta get home before 6, or I'll get egged for having no candy to give out" kind of concept. New England starts getting dark in the 4s around late October, especially on a cloudy day. I'd say, off hand, that no spookier region exists in America than New England.

   While the Causeway Street pier isn't exactly Salem, it was 10 minutes between me and any sort of light... and I'm not the toughest person in that city. With two gargantuan abandoned buildings and a subway running nearby, no one could have even begun to hear me scream.

   It wasn't unusual to see people passing me on my shortcut, but I knew these two were going to be trouble just by the way they zoomed in on me. For some reason, I was more pissed than scared. I was half the size of either of them, and I was on crutches.

   What's worse, we had the wharf to ourselves for this little dance. No one was going to perform a rescue here.

    I bet that a serious, semi-honorable crook like Whitey Bulger would have killed both of them had he witnessed this mugging. I taught in their neighborhood, I was hurt, I was small.. but it seems that there is no honor among theives these days, because I was about to get stomped like one of those flaming dog bags that kids leave on the steps of people who don't hand out candy on Halloween.

      In fact, this was looking much like trick-or-treating taken to that next level... direct physical extortion, with either a beating- or a bum rush off the side of the pier- as both the Trick and  the Treat. Still, I was more pissed than scared- I can fully recall my final thought before the mugging being along the lines of "those SOBs aren't getting my wedding ring."

   I probably should have just handed over the cash, but I have this problem with Impulse Control. I started fishing in my purse, subtly sliding off the wedding ring as I did, letting it drop into the mess at the botom. "No need to whale on me, boys... here's the cash, let's all be cool here..."

   But instead of money, I came out of the purse with pepper spray. SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS... right in his beady little eyes. I then braced my hands on my crutches, and swung my good leg as hard as I could... Night In The Ruts.

   This guy caved in like the Colorado Avalanche, and I was starting to feel pretty good about my chances of maybe even MAKING a little money off this encounter.

   Then I saw this big fist...then I saw the setting sun briefly... then, WHAMMM, right on my back. I took a few kicks before the more decent of the two stopped the beating and took my purse. He tore through it (missing the hidden ring, btw), and came out with two dollars.

   He screamed down into my face, as mad at my lack of street smarts as he was at the pepper spray that he was wiping out of his eyes. "Are you from the suburbs!!! This purse doesn't even have f******* credit cards!! Why in the name of the saint did you fight two grown men for two dollars?"

   I coughed out some blood, and rolled over onto my side. It took more effort than I thought it would to finally lift my head. To be honest, I was just happy that they hadn't thrown me off the wharf. I would have sank like a bad stock.

   "I thought you were after the $500 in my skirt pocket." 

 

http://journals.aol.com/johnmscalzi/bytheway/entries/4977

Weekend Assignment #83: Tell us a scary Halloween story... that happened to you. What I'm looking for here is a story where you were spooked or scared by someone or... something... in or around Halloween (or, alternately, a story where you spooked the heck out of someone else). Please note I don't want stories in which you or others were genuinely in danger -- I'm talk about you getting one big BOO! moment, which, after you were able to get your heart back into your chest, resulted in you saying something along the lines of "Don't do that!" to whomever was giving you a spook. A fun frightening, in other words.

Extra Credit: The song "Monster Mash": Fun or lame?

Lame... so lame it limps.