The other night (Tuesday)  I was walking home after a late supper. It was just before midnight and Anita Baker and I were contemplating some high notes on No More Tears. I knew she would reach them and I wouldn’t. Not even in my head.  My one thing about London is that it is relatively safe at night. I can walk without too much stress or worry.

Suddenly out of nowhere a man jumped in front of me. I would say he was mid 40s, Caucasian, overweight but still able to be relatively nimble on his feet judging by the jump and staring at me intently. I quickly assume the woman under attack pose. I raise a hand to my chest and grip my bag more closely. It’s a universal pose that says “What the fuck is going on here?”

Then he starts to move…..into a signature Bolt pose.

I look perplexed. The Olympics are over. Am I supposed to think that every late night walker is still reliving the highlights? And why does he think this is appropriate stranger behaviour?

He strikes his pose for a couple of seconds before mumbing “Bolt! Huh? Yeah!!” a few times.

I get it. I’m black therefore as excited as he is to share his Bolt pose on the street. All I know is that I was scared shitless by a stranger for no good reason.

He walks off patting my shoulder as he passes. I immediately check to see if he somehow lifted my purse. But no this is just a random act of sports related happiness.

I have two thioughts

1)      I wonder if he jumped anyone else that Tuesday night.

2)      I miss black cabs.

Please can we just stop these random acts? I don’t think my heart can take it.

© Chelsea Black