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| Yeah, it was like that. |
Have you heard? Omaha is officially the least safe place in the history of humanity. After approximately 22 years of living in Omaha, I was finally robbed at gun point. The robbing itself wasn't so bad, it was the aftermath that really affected me. The whole time, I was sure I'd fallen asleep and was having the kind of nightmare that seems so real that it must be a premonition. Afterward though, after regaining the ability to text and make phone calls, I realized that I was wide awake and that what had just happened was real. Real terrifying. Anybody who looks you in the eye and says that having a gun pointed at you isn't terrifying is a fucking liar. You should punch him or her in the face and set them on fire. After the jump, I have included a narrative of the entire experience.
I leave every morning at 3:30. My alarm goes off, I head out, and I'm in the parking lot at work by 3:50. Today was a little different. I wanted to swing by the gas station on the way to work to pull my rent money out of the ATM since that shit is late. This is a regular thing for me. Almost all of my ATM transactions are crazy early in the morning because that's when I'm out & about. I swing by the gas station at least three times a week too because frankly, I need me some soda. So today, I left a little bit early, no alarm. I took off at around 3:20.
By 3:35, I was at the gas station on 96th & Q. I work at 93rd & H so this was going to be another routine stop. I went to the ATM, got out my money, then stopped at the drink cooler for two bottles of Mtn. Dew. The cashier and I chatted for a few minutes while he rang up my sodas. Giving me my change, he froze when we heard a man behind me say very simply, "Give me the money in the register, since you already have it open."
I froze. No. You know what, froze isn't adequate. I was catatonic. You could have quantified my brain activity on one hand. My heart was racing, my eyes were fixed on the mirror on the ceiling. It took every ounce of my strength to respond when he instructed me to turn around, slowly and raise my hands. I obeyed, of course, and saw the gun. I was on rifle and pistol team in high school. I've held handguns before. i've never had one pointed at me. As far as I was concerned, this man's face was this gun. he told me to give him my wallet and my cell phone. I immediately pulled out my wallet, and said my phone was in the car. He didn't seem to care about the phone.
I added my wallet to the small bag of cash on the counter, and the man took it. Suddenly, my brain turned back on. I flashed back to scenes of television shows and immediately started describing this man to myself. I'm pretty sure I was telling myself what he looked like, what he was wearing, the sound of his voice out loud. He was taller than me, not by much, maybe two inches at the most. He was fair skinned, slightly yellow. He was tired. I have seen those eyes before, I see them every morning before work looking into the mirror. He had long, dark hair, I could see the bump of his ponytail through the hoodie when he walked off. he wore a black hoodie, and green camouflage cargo pants.
He drove a dark colored Jetta south. I was relieved when I looked to the man and he was already on the phone with the police. I went to the car to grab my notebook and pen, I wrote down everything I could remember while I called work and my friend Ryan to let them know I'd probably be late for work. Updating my facebook status was a vain attempt at achieving some degree of normalcy. I had to remind myself that I was still there. It was pretty terrible. Getting off the phone with Ryan, the police were already a block away.
For once, Kudos to the Sheriff's Department! Their arrival was as close to instant as it could be. They saw how shaken I was and Officer Santos was quick to take my statement and used the photocopier in the office of the gas station to make a copy of my page of notes in my notebook. He had me on my way and at work with a few moments to spare. I ended up clocking in before 4:00 and was happy to be alive. The facebook comments started pouring in, huge thanks to my friends for being there for me when I needed them. I was shaking when I took my seat and started sorting DVDs. By the end of our first break, I realized that I wouldn't be any use at the hub today. I finished the stuff I had at my desk-thing and left by 6:00.
It wasn't until I got home and finished the phone calls to cancel cards and whatnot that I finally started to cry. I'm still shaking a bit, trembling inside. I'm worried about my rent money, but thankful for my life. I probably won't sleep for a couple of days, and I'm thinking that the bottle of vodka in my freezer is fast going to be a good friend of mine. Sometime today, I will stop by the courthouse and collect a copy of the police report. If anybody would like to come and keep me company today, I will welcome you with open arms.
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