About two hours ago I was up in the mall picking up a prescription and thinking I should hit the library or go to the bookstore nearby. I opted for the bookstore even though I had no intention of actually buying a book.
As I approached the book store, I heard the shriek of a woman and as I was turning back toward the scream, my first thought was that someone dropped a jar of pickles on the tile or some such thing. I saw a fellow veering back from the cashier clutching a handful of bills to his abdomen and turning to run out of the store. Without thinking I just bolted after him. Silly really, as I was in heels but the bastard and I locked eyeballs and so I took chase after him over the tile floors. I chased him for about 400 feet over the mall and down a hallway to a stairwell and then I lost him for I didn't know if he gone up or down. And the realization that I was in heels and I didn't have a snowballs chance made me realize the futility of it.
As I turned to give up an employee or maybe the owner of the shop the store was right behind me. He said that this fellow had ripped them off before. They declined my offer for my services as a witness and so I took my leave. Adreneline pumping, I felt no need to remain in the mall and left.
It's giving me pause to think however how quickly I choose to bolt after this fellow. He wasn't what I would consider a "big" guy and I probably had a good 20 pounds on him, as I would never be accused of being small or petite by any stretch of the imagination. (I am 5'7" and large athletic frame). He could have been armed but I certainly didn't ever feel afraid. I suppose if this happened in the US, the chance of him packing heat would have been far greater. I mean no disrespect to my US friends here, but geez, it's Canada and when we think of the "right to bear arms" it usually means bare arms, 'cos it is summer and we can turf the parkas! He was clearly confident that I'd not catch him anyway. Brunette, 5'10 -11", 160 lbs, light olive complexion perhaps of European mix, khaki pants, baseball hat, blue fleece jacket. He was actually kind of a nice looking guy really. But I am no cop. I am no runner either - my bladder gets me every time!
But it isn't the first time for your's truly to stand up to some rotter who thinks they can be a bully and that I am just "some female," who won't get in their face. Invariably, I do, much Greig's chagrin. He's referred to me as his Velvet Hammer on several occasions.
At any rate, while I ponder all the ponderables of this situ, may I recommend this very nice Australian red? Ah, that's it. Must be the uppity Aussie in me blood, or the German.