Emergency Response

Fortunately I've never been physically attacked by a mugger or rapist. Sometimes I wonder what I would do if I were. On TV shows and in books, the muggee screams. I've tried to figure out if I would be a screamer, and I don't think I would. When other little girls were screaming as they played, I wasn't. I've never understood what makes little kids scream as they come out the school door for recess. Maybe there are some non-screamers in there, people like me, but it seems that most kids enjoy screaming and relish the opportunity to do so without criticism from adults. I remember when teen agers were crowding stages with the likes of Elvis performing, and they were screaming their lungs out. Ain't no way you would have found me there! Yesterday as I was driving down the alley on my way to pick up Hubby at the back door of the Print Shop, a black van came out between two buildings. She was turning right toward me, and she was on her cell phone. I could feel and hear the crunch that was about to happen. What did I do? I didn't scream. I didn't toot the horn. I said, "Whoa, whoa, whoa, WHOA!" As luck would have it, the woman saw me just before we made contact. She turned more sharply and missed me and I continued on to the print shop, albeit a little weak in the knees. The driver turns out to be the phone answering lady at the plumbing shop (I talked to her yesterday to get someone to come out to fix our waterheater), and she actually went up the alley, turned around, and came back to apologize. I was still pretty shook up, so I said, "Just don't talk on your cell phone when you're driving!" If I were writing this incident up in a novel, I sure wouldn't have had my heroine say "Whoa" and "Don't talk on your cell phone when you're driving." And I suspect that if I were attacked, I would say something just as stupid and insufficient. Maybe I should find some place to practice screaming.