How to Survive a Knife Fight You Didn't Know You Were In.

While walking to the bus stop on a bright sunny morning in Denver, a car drives up and turns down the alley in front of me. Two men jump out and run over to one of the apartment buildings flanking the alley. They start jumping up and trying to look into one of the 2nd story windows. One guy looks toward the street, sees me, and starts walking in my direction. I know this because I'm watching him intently, but I have on dark sunglasses. I notice the guy has a machete- a freaking machete- in his hand. There are no other cars on this normally busy street, and no one is walking anywhere in view. Cap Hill in Denver- always busy except for right now. The guy's stopped walking. What do I do? "So far, he doesn't know I've even noticed him. Face forward, dark glasses. He's obviously crazy, on drugs, something- they're looking for someone. What if they decide I'll do since there are bars on that apartment window and they're not getting in?" I'm getting closer to him, I keep my head up and face forward. "If I cross the street now, he'll know I've seen something. If I run, he may catch up." So I do the only thing I think makes sense: Face forward, don't break stride. "Once I'm directly in front of him, he'll be able to see my eyes from the side." I turn my eyes straight ahead and towards the ground. 10 seconds- all of that happened in no more than 10 seconds. As I walked by him, he's holding the machete by his side, standing in the alley maybe five feet away, perfectly placed to intersect my path on the sidewalk. My mind races, but there's a mantra forming, "I didn't see you, it's not me you want. I didn't see you, it's not me you want." Head up, face forward, eyes on the ground- "I don't see an extra shadow, just my own," but I hear him take a step- that telltale sound of grit and gravel crunching against the asphalt...but only one step..."Stay the same pace, breathe normally, he doesn't think I've seen anything, I'm not who he wants..." I take three maybe four more steps, and I know he can only see the back of me now... "Only my shadow, no noise of footsteps running towards me, no noise at all- where the hell is all the traffic and people?" With my back to him, lifetimes seem to pass. I reach the end of the street, and suddenly, there are cars coming down the road again. I breathe. "I'm not alone any more." I see people halfway down the next block. I briskly cross the street, pass others on the sidewalk. "No one's screaming, he's not behind me." I never looked back.

I have no idea what the "right" thing to do is in that situation. When I got to work, I called the police- not for me, but for whoever lived in that apartment. I was lucky. Well, I was unlucky first- then lucky. The whole incident was mere seconds. I think about that day 13 years ago every now and then and wonder what if. I always come to the conclusion that if I didn't have those sunglasses, things may not have gone so well. If I can't identify him, I'm not a risk to him. If I'm not a risk, he'll leave me be. With the sunglasses, he didn't know whether or not I saw him.

It's not unusual to be getting ready to leave work for the day and realize I still have my sunglasses on my head from the drive in. Most days when I get home after dark, my sweet man greets me with a kiss and takes my sunglasses off my head for me. I usually forget to take them off. I just chalked it up to absentmindedness until tonight. Maybe, deep in my subconscious, sunglasses are my version of Linus' blanket. My armor, my sword, my shield. Hey, I'm pretty sure they saved my life one time.