I just had one of the more surreal experiences of my life.

I went to the 7-11 this afternoon to by a newspaper. The store has a small parking lot, which was fairly crowded as I left. There was a line three cars deep to exit. So I backed out, and took my place in line. At about the same time, a black guy pulled into the lot in a shiny, black, large luxury car. I didn’t get the make or model. He seemed to be waiting for a spot. Because I was sitting at an awkward angle, I couldn’t tell if I was blocking the spot he wanted. So I made eye contact, and gestured to him with my hand, relaying what I thought was a “would like me to move up so you can park” message. Apparently, that’s not how he took it.

The guy got out of his car and pointed at me, then walked over to my window. Foolishly, I put the window down. The following quotes are approximate. But you’ll get the gist. He used a few phrases that are now permanently scalded into my brain.

Him: “What did you say? What did you fucking say?”

Me: “Relax, man. I was just asking if you wanted me to move up so you could pull into that space. I was doing you a favor.”

Him, now screaming: “Listen to me you fucking cracker. I am a racist. I’m a black racist. I hate crackers like you. And I’ll fucking kill you. You don’t tell me to relax. You hear me? You, white boy, don’t ever tell me what to do. I’ll reach into that car and I’ll fucking kill you.

Me, in my head:: What. The. Fuck. He can’t be serious. Who the hell self-identifies as a racist?

At this point, I’m blocked from both sides. I can’t drive anywhere. Putting up my window would probably have been the smart thing to do. But as the adrenaline’s now lighting up my spine, I think that might only piss him off more. I think about getting out of my car. I’m a fairly big guy. And I’m a (very rusty, haven’t trained in 8 years) brown belt in a hapkido/tae kwan do.

Then I think, “Radley, that’s a really stupid idea.”

Me, out loud:: I was being friendly, man. I was giving you that parking space. There’s no need to get angry.

Him:: I told you not to tell me what to do! I’ll be angry if I goddamn want to be angry. Get out of the car, cracker! Go ahead. You want to report me, don’t you? Get out and take down my plates. Report me, motherfucker. I’ll kill you in this parking lot. Killing a cracker like you don’t mean a thing to me? Hear me? I hate white people. I hate you. You don’t mean shit to me.

Me, in my head: Time to go.

I decided to stop talking. I turned my head away from him and tried to figure out a way out of the parking lot. At that point, he pushed his head into my car. I started to put up the window, at which point he put his arm in the car, too. I can’t remember if he actually grabbed me. I seem to remember his hand just fumbling around the dashboard, looking for something to grab on to. I figure if this guy is packing, I’ll be dead soon. So I figure the hell with it. If I have to push the car in front of me out of the way with my bumper, so be it. I threw the wheel all the way to the right and stomped on the gas. My car lurched to the right, just cleared the bumper in front of me, and jumped a curb into the fast food lot next door. I pulled out onto the street. The dude actually chased me down the street, on foot.

I drove about 10-15 blocks down, then pulled over and called 911 (thank goodness you can drive with a cell phone in Virginia!). The operator asked me for his tags. Now I’m pissed. I want this asshole arrested. Figuring he hadn’t got back in his car yet, and that I could easily get away if he came back at me, I circled back, hoping to at least get a few numbers off his plates.

He pulled out just as I drove back by the lot. He glared at me, made a gesture I couldn’t quite make out, then followed me for about five blocks.

And holy hell. There’s a red light with stopped traffic in front of me. I swerved off onto the shoulder, made a hard right and gunned it. I’m guessing at that point he saw I was on the phone with cops. He made the same move at the light, but then turned down a side street. Didn’t see him again.

I waited about a half hour for the cops to come to my house. I told them what happened. I spent the next three hours driving around the D.C. area trying to calm myself down, not to mention trying to figure out what the hell had just happened. I just now got home.

I almost wish someone had just mugged me and taken my money. It was such an intense, crazy fucking episode. The guy looked me square in the eyes and swore he’d kill me. The race stuff was just weird. I guess he interpreted my gesture as a slight. I was a little short with him when he got out of his car, because it was a dumb, macho overreaction to a miscommunication. I thought he was road raging. If I’d realized he was psychopathic, and about to take 400 years of oppression out on me, I’d probably have kept my trap shut. Also, I’ve lived in or near minority-majority neighborhoods for collectively 4 years or so now. That’s the first time I’ve ever heard someone use the word “cracker” unironically.

The part that’s a little scary is that I had nothing to tell the cops. I gave them a description of the car and the guy, but it really wasn’t enough to distinguish him much. They haven’t found him yet. I’m a little afraid I’m going to run into him again. It’s a small neighborhood.

I don’t really know why I’m blogging all of this. Therapy, I guess. I wasn’t hurt. Far worse stuff happens in D.C. several times a day. Not wanting sympathy. It was just a ridiculously messed up experience. Still a little shell-shocked, I guess.

Oh, and the headline’s a joke. I still don’t believe in hate crimes.

This entry was posted on Friday, March 30th, 2007 at 8:56 pm by Radley Balko and is filed under Uncategorized. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.