(no subject)
Well, I’ve sure as hell changed my mind about Temple Bar being safe. I was fucking well STALKED by some random creep today. Yes, stalked. And no, I’m not being paranoid or imagining things. He followed me from just off Dame Street, through Temple Bar and down to the quays.
I had met up with my sister and her friend Richie after I finished work at six. It was still bright out, so I felt quite happy to toddle around the city centre. We got sandwiches and tea (it was free, can’t say no to free stuff) in Londis on Dame Street, and then went outside to eat them. We sat on the big window ledges around the corner from Londis and started to eat.
I was about halfway through my sandwich when this guy came around the corner. He was shorter than me, a good bit chunkier, had a big nose, a moustache, greying hair and the sort of face that looked like gravity had a vengeance against him. He was wearing a maroon coloured jacket and looked like he was in his fifties, or late forties at the earliest. My sister and her friend reckoned he must be a gear head, and I’m beginning to agree with them.
He was talking to someone on the phone and was pacing up and down. I thought it was weird that he was walking on the side of the street we were on, and he kept staring at us every time he passed. Eventually I felt too creeped out and suggested that we move away from there.
He followed us from Dame Street to Aston Quay, following our route exactly from Anglesea Street, down Cope Street, through Crown Alley and Merchant’s Arch, then down to the 79 bus stop on Aston Quay! (Check this map http://www.temple-bar.ie/flash/maptbp.htm to see how much we meandered.) All the time he kept crossing the street whenever we did, moving faster when we did and ducking into shop doors every time we looked back.
Worst of all, he kept creeping closer to our bus stop, hiding every time we looked up. True, I had a very thorny, very fresh rose that I could jab in tender areas, a set of keys that could prove very deadly when laced between fingers and made into a fist, and I also had a scalding hot cup of tea that could be used to burn him, but none of these options seemed logical without a reason to maim/disembowel the freak.
I mean, who would the Gardaí believe? Hysterical girl shrieking that she’s being followed, or the guy who acts bewildered as to why said girl has shoved a rose up his ass? … I think my mind is on overdrive. Never mind the last bit of gibberish.
Anyway, my bus wasn’t due for another few minutes, and this disturbing little pustule was preying on my nerves increasingly. So, noticing that an alternative bus I could take was just after pulling up down the road, I ran for it with my sister and her buddy in close pursuit. (They weren’t going onto the bus with me, just making sure I got on safe.)
They promised to make sure he didn’t get onto the bus after me (at this stage I was bordering on hysterical) and I began to relax as soon as I was in my seat. I took out my phone to ring my Mam and let her know I’d be on the way, but then the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. I looked up, and who was walking toward me? Creepy old stalker face. Staring right at me. The wanker had followed me onto the bus and was sitting about three feet away from me, a most bizarre expression on his face. I almost shit myself, but I managed to pull myself together enough to realise that getting the fuck off that bus was the wisest course of action.
I fair ran off the bus.
Aoife and Richie said he sneaked past them, that they hadn’t seen him until he was on the bus and sitting two seats away from me. Luckily for all of us though, the bus pulled off before he had a chance to realise I had legged it.
I gave him the finger as the bus went past, mostly out of relief that my trousers were still unsoiled.
Without doubt, the single most creepy experience of my life, not to mention nerve wracking.
Yes, say I was over-reacting, but what the hell was he up to following us? We took an unusual route to get to the quays, too, so why would he take the same one? Any why the hell did he keep staring at us? I make a point of not looking at people when I’m in town.
Ack! My brother’s girlfriend didn’t help either, saying he probably knew what bus I take home, and that he might be waiting for me next time. Cheers for that, fembot. Just what I needed to hear.
So, that's just ANOTHER reason to get a new job. :(
I had met up with my sister and her friend Richie after I finished work at six. It was still bright out, so I felt quite happy to toddle around the city centre. We got sandwiches and tea (it was free, can’t say no to free stuff) in Londis on Dame Street, and then went outside to eat them. We sat on the big window ledges around the corner from Londis and started to eat.
I was about halfway through my sandwich when this guy came around the corner. He was shorter than me, a good bit chunkier, had a big nose, a moustache, greying hair and the sort of face that looked like gravity had a vengeance against him. He was wearing a maroon coloured jacket and looked like he was in his fifties, or late forties at the earliest. My sister and her friend reckoned he must be a gear head, and I’m beginning to agree with them.
He was talking to someone on the phone and was pacing up and down. I thought it was weird that he was walking on the side of the street we were on, and he kept staring at us every time he passed. Eventually I felt too creeped out and suggested that we move away from there.
He followed us from Dame Street to Aston Quay, following our route exactly from Anglesea Street, down Cope Street, through Crown Alley and Merchant’s Arch, then down to the 79 bus stop on Aston Quay! (Check this map http://www.temple-bar.ie/flash/maptbp.htm to see how much we meandered.) All the time he kept crossing the street whenever we did, moving faster when we did and ducking into shop doors every time we looked back.
Worst of all, he kept creeping closer to our bus stop, hiding every time we looked up. True, I had a very thorny, very fresh rose that I could jab in tender areas, a set of keys that could prove very deadly when laced between fingers and made into a fist, and I also had a scalding hot cup of tea that could be used to burn him, but none of these options seemed logical without a reason to maim/disembowel the freak.
I mean, who would the Gardaí believe? Hysterical girl shrieking that she’s being followed, or the guy who acts bewildered as to why said girl has shoved a rose up his ass? … I think my mind is on overdrive. Never mind the last bit of gibberish.
Anyway, my bus wasn’t due for another few minutes, and this disturbing little pustule was preying on my nerves increasingly. So, noticing that an alternative bus I could take was just after pulling up down the road, I ran for it with my sister and her buddy in close pursuit. (They weren’t going onto the bus with me, just making sure I got on safe.)
They promised to make sure he didn’t get onto the bus after me (at this stage I was bordering on hysterical) and I began to relax as soon as I was in my seat. I took out my phone to ring my Mam and let her know I’d be on the way, but then the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. I looked up, and who was walking toward me? Creepy old stalker face. Staring right at me. The wanker had followed me onto the bus and was sitting about three feet away from me, a most bizarre expression on his face. I almost shit myself, but I managed to pull myself together enough to realise that getting the fuck off that bus was the wisest course of action.
I fair ran off the bus.
Aoife and Richie said he sneaked past them, that they hadn’t seen him until he was on the bus and sitting two seats away from me. Luckily for all of us though, the bus pulled off before he had a chance to realise I had legged it.
I gave him the finger as the bus went past, mostly out of relief that my trousers were still unsoiled.
Without doubt, the single most creepy experience of my life, not to mention nerve wracking.
Yes, say I was over-reacting, but what the hell was he up to following us? We took an unusual route to get to the quays, too, so why would he take the same one? Any why the hell did he keep staring at us? I make a point of not looking at people when I’m in town.
Ack! My brother’s girlfriend didn’t help either, saying he probably knew what bus I take home, and that he might be waiting for me next time. Cheers for that, fembot. Just what I needed to hear.
So, that's just ANOTHER reason to get a new job. :(