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My ex-brother-in-law is now the proud owner of possibly the craziest goddamn thing I've ever heard. (Although, it may take some time before he can get good mileage out of the retelling of it. He'll have to get over the trauma first.)
C is a DJ. Three weeks ago he was working a fundraiser party that was held at the top of a big office building up in the Washington, DC area. The party wound down a bit after 11pm and C began to pack up his kit to leave. The guests dispersed and C loaded up the first trip to the garage. He called the elevator. When the doors opened, there was a woman already in there. They rode down to the garage in silence. The woman remained onboard and C got out with his handtruck and loaded his stuff into the trunk. He went back to the elevator, called the car, and when the doors opened, the same woman was still in the elevator. They rode to the top in silence. (Remember, this is getting on midnight in an essentially empty office building on a Saturday night.) C got out and gathered up the last few of his things. He called the elevator to leave for good.
As you might have guessed by now, the woman was still in the elevator.
C got on and as they descended he, by now feeling awkwardly familiar with this thrice-present stranger without any comfortable reason to go all the way to "friendly", broke the ice. "So, are you just riding the elevator tonight?"
The woman replied without inflection, "Yes. So I can kill you."
Then she stabbed him in the left side of his neck with a five inch knife.
C jumped back from her, arms raised. He knew there was a problem. Knew even that there was pain, but in that first instant, he didn't know what the hell was going on or even where in his body the pain was exactly. Helpfully, the woman stepped in and clarified the emergency by plunging the knife in under C's left armpit. (At some point he was also stabbed in the left forearm, but he has no idea when that happened. His left lung and left external carotid were miss by a frighteningly small margin.)
C, as it happens, is a blackbelt in Tae Kwon Do. After an eternity of a couple of seconds, his training came back online and he got right on with kicking her ass.
They, apparently, were making a hell of a racket coming down to the garage, careening off the walls of the elevator and screaming at each other, so that by the time the doors opened in the basement, security was already running up (as was the town's mayor, one of the party stragglers still in the garage.) As the doors opened, the woman started calling out, "He's trying to rape me!" C, at this point, had pulled her shirt up over her face (apparently, a self-defense technique to subdue and disorient an attacker) and had pinned her against the elevator wall. Of course, this looked terrible for him.
The mayor gawped and the security guard tried shouting my ex-brother-in-law off the woman. C yelled back, "I'm not letting her go until you get some help over here." The scene came into focus for everyone and C's injuries were distracting from the woman's claim to victimhood. When they peeled them apart, she started wailing, "They fired me, but they should have fired you!" Then she dove for the cement floor and tried to swallow a bottle cap discarded there.
It turns out that the woman had worked in the building and had been recently fired from her job. Whether it was a drug-induced psychosis or a sober psychotic break, we don't know. My ex-brother-in-law is recuperating from his injuries. The woman spent a little time in the psych ward and was denied bond and I guess we'll see what happens from here.
What's funny is that the book I'm writing now has two main characters who each has an incredible story of near-miss survival under bizarre circumstances. Their separate traumas have been integrated into their worldview and, if I write it right, should show up in how they handle the action of the story I'm inventing for them. It's weird to know someone who now, whenever the party conversation turns to crazy shit that happens on Planet Earth, will have an untoppable tale. Truly nuts.
C is a DJ. Three weeks ago he was working a fundraiser party that was held at the top of a big office building up in the Washington, DC area. The party wound down a bit after 11pm and C began to pack up his kit to leave. The guests dispersed and C loaded up the first trip to the garage. He called the elevator. When the doors opened, there was a woman already in there. They rode down to the garage in silence. The woman remained onboard and C got out with his handtruck and loaded his stuff into the trunk. He went back to the elevator, called the car, and when the doors opened, the same woman was still in the elevator. They rode to the top in silence. (Remember, this is getting on midnight in an essentially empty office building on a Saturday night.) C got out and gathered up the last few of his things. He called the elevator to leave for good.
As you might have guessed by now, the woman was still in the elevator.
C got on and as they descended he, by now feeling awkwardly familiar with this thrice-present stranger without any comfortable reason to go all the way to "friendly", broke the ice. "So, are you just riding the elevator tonight?"
The woman replied without inflection, "Yes. So I can kill you."
Then she stabbed him in the left side of his neck with a five inch knife.
C jumped back from her, arms raised. He knew there was a problem. Knew even that there was pain, but in that first instant, he didn't know what the hell was going on or even where in his body the pain was exactly. Helpfully, the woman stepped in and clarified the emergency by plunging the knife in under C's left armpit. (At some point he was also stabbed in the left forearm, but he has no idea when that happened. His left lung and left external carotid were miss by a frighteningly small margin.)
C, as it happens, is a blackbelt in Tae Kwon Do. After an eternity of a couple of seconds, his training came back online and he got right on with kicking her ass.
They, apparently, were making a hell of a racket coming down to the garage, careening off the walls of the elevator and screaming at each other, so that by the time the doors opened in the basement, security was already running up (as was the town's mayor, one of the party stragglers still in the garage.) As the doors opened, the woman started calling out, "He's trying to rape me!" C, at this point, had pulled her shirt up over her face (apparently, a self-defense technique to subdue and disorient an attacker) and had pinned her against the elevator wall. Of course, this looked terrible for him.
The mayor gawped and the security guard tried shouting my ex-brother-in-law off the woman. C yelled back, "I'm not letting her go until you get some help over here." The scene came into focus for everyone and C's injuries were distracting from the woman's claim to victimhood. When they peeled them apart, she started wailing, "They fired me, but they should have fired you!" Then she dove for the cement floor and tried to swallow a bottle cap discarded there.
It turns out that the woman had worked in the building and had been recently fired from her job. Whether it was a drug-induced psychosis or a sober psychotic break, we don't know. My ex-brother-in-law is recuperating from his injuries. The woman spent a little time in the psych ward and was denied bond and I guess we'll see what happens from here.
What's funny is that the book I'm writing now has two main characters who each has an incredible story of near-miss survival under bizarre circumstances. Their separate traumas have been integrated into their worldview and, if I write it right, should show up in how they handle the action of the story I'm inventing for them. It's weird to know someone who now, whenever the party conversation turns to crazy shit that happens on Planet Earth, will have an untoppable tale. Truly nuts.
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