You Will Get Arrested
The husband and I were driving home after a very long day. As we drove around crowded ass Hyde Park looking for parking, we saw a woman jogging down the street. The husband found this odd because it was almost 11:30 pm. I didn’t think it was that odd because you exercise when you have the time, and perhaps this was her only free time that day.
The husband felt she was taking a risk because it was dangerous to be alone out on the street that late at night. Once he said that, I understood his point. I told him if I were to go running that late I’d have protection. He found this funny for several reasons. First, I hate running, so I most likely will never be running , even if it is 11:30 at night.
Second, I wouldn’t be running unprotected. After I thought about it for a bit, I said, “If I did run at night, which I wouldn’t, I’d be running with a knife in one hand and pepper spray in the other.”
After he finally finished laughing, he told me, “you will definitely get arrested if you go jogging with a knife and pepper spray in yours hands.” We completely disagreed on this. I told him he was dead wrong because I already walked around with pepper spray. The nights when I come home alone very late, before I even get out of my car, I’m holding my pepper spray ready to spray. I keep my head on a swivel in case anyone tries to come up on me quickly in the dark or out of a shadow. I didn’t see how adding a knife to that would take me from perfectly safe to definitely arrested.
In my head, I’m thinking I’d have a little switchblade I would hold in my balled-up fist that could be brought out with only a moment’s notice. In the husband’s head, he’s imagining me running down 53rd with a big ass butcher knife. I’m talking heavy-duty, shiny metal reflecting the street lights, knuckles turning pale from gripping the handle.
Even I had to crack up at that imagery. If I saw a woman running down the street holding a butcher knife, I’d probably call 911. Even if she was dressed in workout clothes, I’d be worried. I feel bad for whatever man she was running towards and hope the police got there before he was slashed to bits.
I had to clear up the confusion. I explained that I meant a switchblade, not a butcher knife. And I showed the husband my pepper spray. He remembered it from when I purchased it once he saw it again. The fact that it was tiny, cute as hell in it’s powder pink bottle, and so unassuming made him agree that maybe, just maybe, I wouldn’t get arrested if I went jogging.
But don’t worry my dear readers, I won’t be getting arrested any time soon. Because even though I would have a knife and pepper spray while running, it’s more important to note that I won’t ever be running. I know the importance of getting my heart rate up and all that. But Tracy Anderson has me hopping and jumping all over my living room every damn morning. And the only thing I have to fend off there are my two cats who love to setup shop on my workout mat.