A cautionary tale for the ladies...

Each year, sixty million girls from around the world go missing. After yesterday’s proceedings, I could have been part of the statistic. And while I may be overanalyzing what happened to me, I figured I’d share my story, in case someone else ends up in a similar situation.

I was driving along Fountain, towards La Brea. There were several cars in front of me, and we were all slowing down to prepare for a stop at the upcoming red light on Poinsettia. Suddenly, a woman who appeared to be in her mid 40’s, jumped out in front of my car (and, thinking back on it now, I realize she was pretty selective about the cars she jumped in front of. There must have been three, maybe four, cars in front of me, going the same speed as I. Maybe I looked like a sucker. Or maybe, she was looking for a girl.) She looked frazzled and told me that her mother just had a heart attack. She then proceeds to ask me If I can help out by driving her. Meanwhile, there are cars behind me and an insane amount of honking ensues (I did, after all, stop at a somewhat busy intersection), so I pick up my dog Laika, who is sitting in the front seat, and tell this woman that everything is going to be just peachy and ask her to get in.

She tells me to drive to La Brea and Olympic, which puzzles me, because there is no hospital on Olympic and La Brea. I know there is a hospital on Olympic and Fairfax, because my grandmother had been there before. In any case, I don’t probe, at least initially. This woman appears to be in total shock.

From the moment this woman stepped into my car, Laika began biting her hands and when I would try to intervene, she’d bite mine too, but gentler. She has never done that with such persistence. I had plenty of people drive alongside Laika before. She might bite initially, but is quick to calm down, especially once I tell her to stop. But she’s still a puppy, and once in a while she’ll have her “I feel like being a little punk” moments.

Because Laika kept biting the woman’s hands, I glanced over at her nails. Two nails on her left hand were painted a bright pink shade, and the rest were disgustingly yellow. She noticed me looking.

“Excuse my nails” she told me.

I show her mine, to make her feel better; “Look, mine are not in the best shape either.” I had remnants of nail polish left on my nails, and while they were not nearly as bad, they were definitely not in tip-top shape.

She told me she is homeless , but didn’t look the part. She had a purse and no other belongings. Her clothes were clean and her shoes were way cuter then my 99 Cents Store flip-flops. She had make up on too; black eyeliner (which made her eyes appear bead-y and gave her face a slightly slanted appearance) and reddish-pink blush.

As we continued down La Brea, she turned the conversation away from her and her mother, to me.

“I’m psychic. And I feel like our energies click” she told me. “Did you ever meet people, who you just felt like you knew for a lifetime.” I have. Everyone has. And, I did just pick up a random woman on the street. Telling me I have stinky energy was not going to get her very far. Literally.

She continued; “You’re a really good person. You do a lot for others, but rarely get much in return.” Well, I did just pick up a total stranger, so I guess in relation to her, I am pretty darn nice. Plus, I haven’t met many “psychics” who begin conversations with” “You’re a horrible fucking person, your energy just radiates negativity; Clearly, I just HAD to jump into your car”. I just don’t think that’s a good sales pitch. But that sentence still stroke a nerve, because I am in a bit of a pickle right now and lately, life’s been kind of rough. Maybe it wasn’t even what she said; I was in a poor emotional state prior to picking her up. And nowadays, I’m a total cry baby. Shit, I cried when my neighbor, who has a cat, recently brought up the issue of the “no pets” clause in our lease. I mean, that certainly sucks (because I’m on the verge of getting kicked out), but it shouldn’t instigate someone to cry in front of pseudo- strangers. I just had a ton of shit just crash. And I’m a girl. So, yes, I ended up letting a tear slip in front of this strange woman.

“You are hurt” she proceeds. And I let another tear slip. No shit, Sherlock.

“You are suffering from a broken heart. You were in love.”

“It wasn’t love. It may have been infatuation” I reply. In reality, it was neither. But it’s a long story and I’m not driving her to San Francisco (where she said she was from).

“I’ll give you a reading. A true reading. I connect soul mates who may be millions of miles away. I have clients all over the world whom I’ve helped.”

And it should have hit me at this point that this lady is fucking bananas. But, as previously noted, I’m a bit fucked in the head right now and I assumed she just wanted to make some dough from her self-proclaimed psychic abilities.

As we’re driving along, I once again ask her if she’s sure that her mother is on Olympic and La Brea. There is nothing at that intersection, besides a gas station and a donut shop.

“My mother died nine years ago” She states.

Wait. Did I hear that right? Is she just in shock? Maybe she’s crazy? Or just needed a ride? I didn’t want to keep probing. It’s only a couple miles and it doesn’t take that much time out of my schedule. I guess I can be a pro bono taxi for a day. But then, she asks me if she could use my phone.

I look for my purse, take out my phone and give it to her. She dials a number, and calls some guy to ask him where he is. Odd, but I drive on.

He tells her he is on Pico and La Brea, at some market or a gas station. Fine, that’s just another block down from Olympic and La Brea and I can’t wait to let her out already; Laika’s constant biting is irritating me and the whole situation just keeps getting weirder.

I make a couple of U-turns, and get stuck at a red light. At this point, I begin to probe.

“So who had a heart attack?”

“My grandma,” she replies a couple seconds later, as though I caught her off guard.

“Okay. And who is this guy you’re meeting?”

“Oh, he is my grandma’s caretaker. He is supposed to give me information as to where she is.” And again, she bursts out in tears (but none come out).

How did she know his location prior to calling him? Was he usually hanging out at gas stations around that area? If so, why? Why couldn’t she get the needed information over the phone? Why did she have to ask a stranger to drive her to a pre-determined location, when she simply could off stood outside of a near-by Ralphs (which was 5 steps away from where I picked her up) and asked someone for change to use a pay phone, or their cell phone, to get the information she needed? Isn’t that a lot simpler then hitching a ride?

And, yes, at that point, it really should have hit me. But I continued driving. I was still confused as to where I’m supposed to leave her. So I picked up my phone again and was about to hand it to her call this guy again so that she can find out where he is, when I noticed that she left my phone on and he was still on the line (it’s been about three minutes since the first time she called him). Weird.

As we approach the intersection, I handed her the phone and told her to ask him where he is.

“Where are you? Oh, a gas station on Pico and LaBrea? I see it. Pump #5? Ok. We’ll be there really soon.” He says something to her, to which she replies, “just wait for me Rick, please, you won’t be disappointed. I promise.” This time, I noticed she hung up the phone.

And yes, again, that last sentence should of set off an alarm in my head. But I continue on, and Laika continues biting her, and me, when I try to stop her. At some point, the woman raises her hand, and gently hits Laika. She then states, “don’t make me hit you, puppy.” She noticed my facial expression in response to her statement, smiled and laughed it off, as though she didn’t mean it. It was at that point that I realized that this woman wasn’t Laika’s biggest fan and if something bad happened to me, something bad would happen to Laika as well.

After I made yet another U-turn (the gas station was on my left, and we had passed the intersection), we were stuck at a red light. I told this woman I’m not going any further, and that she needs to exit my car and cross the road to get to her friend.

She doesn’t get out and keeps looking over at the light.

“Are you getting bad vibes? I’m a woman too, I understand” she tells me, but still doesn’t move.

“Look, I’m not going any further; you have to come out here.” She waits a couple seconds, still intensely concentrated on the red light. I tell her again. This time, she finally gets out. There is no thanks. No "take care". No goodbye.

I realize that after reading this, many of you may be thinking “Jeez, Ida, you’re a moron. Wasn’t it obvious from the get go?” But honestly, it wasn’t. It all happened really fast, and seemed legit. This woman did not appear threatening and she distracted me by continually switching the subject; "let's talk about you," she'd say. I assumed she wanted some money and needed a ride. Would I do the same thing if a scary-looking, homeless man popped out in front of my car and asked for a ride? Probably not. Which is probably why a clean-cut, middle-aged woman is a more effective bait.

A lot of my writing here is post-analysis. At the time this was happening, my brain shut off and my emotions took over. I think it’s part of human nature, especially female nature, to want to help others. At times, It’s our Achilles heel.

It really wasn’t until after I got home that I realized just how thankful I should be that I am home and safe. And, I must say, I’m extremely thankful for Laika. Had it not been for her strange reaction towards this woman, and her consistent biting the entire way, I probably would have driven this woman all the way to gas station pump #5. It now occurs to me that I could of pulled up to a fairly empty gas station and been presented with a gun pointing to my head and there’d be nothing I could do.


Postscript: I was in a similar situation last Wednesday. I went to Whole Foods to get my weekly fill of their salad bar, and left Laika in the car for a couple minutes. It was a pretty cool morning, but it was getting hot fast, so I was running through the parking lot towards my car when I was I was intercepted by a girl with a baby, who were both sitting in the backseat of a car that was being driven by a man who I assumed was the girl’s dad. The girl claimed she was raped and pregnant. She showed me a hospital tag on her arm. The guy driving the car gave me the creeps and I was in a hurry. I tried to find out how I could help her, but she wouldn’t clarify. I told her I was running late and that she needed to stop and go inside the store so someone there could help her. Right after I got into my car, I felt horrible for leaving her. I still do.