2002-07-22 | 6:53 p.m.

corduroy licorice was full of himself. his mom had made little gingerbread men cookies and frosted them to look just like him...shaggy hair and all.

***

just so you know, this is one of the longest entries i've ever written, so settle in and pack some snacks. it's worth the time. believe you me.

so this weekend was pretty darn eventful. it started on friday afternoon when our company closed up shop early to head out to the beach for a "team building" event. our management makes an effort to do nice stuff for us on a pretty regular basis. i know i should be more grateful. for some reason, i always dread these team days, but once i'm in the midst of the activities i'm lovin it.

the first activity after our picnic lunch was sand sculpting. we were broken into 5 teams and were sent to our designated patches of sand to create our interpretation of the theme "pop culture."

our co. prez. was on my team and he is known for doing this sand sculpting stuff on a semi-pro level. (the secret ingredient for successful sculpting? lotsa water.) so we brainstorm amongst our seven selves and the recurring theme seems to be britney spears. one of the gals in the group was pushing for an austin powers tie-in, so we ended up pairing britney and mini me in a sweaty tryst. our prez. wasn't too thrilled with the idea, but wanted to step out of the leadership role for a change.

the sculpture turned out pretty darn good and as i carted pails of water to and fro and patted down britney's hair, i rehearsed my sculpture story in my head. i ran it by prez. man before the final presentation and, again, he wasn't thrilled, but he trusted us to run with it. the final sculpture had britney's head, shoulders and generous bust, holding a can of pepsi in her hand. mini me, pinky lipside, was resting his back against her tummy.

when it came my turn to step up as sculpture spokesman, i kicked into gear. my two or so years of improv training kinda culminated here...oceanfront with my office. the address went something like this:

"heartbroken after her recent break-up with heartthrob justin timberlake, britney spears loses herself in her work on the pepsi tv commercial shoot with the austin powers crew. sparks fly on the set between her and mini me. later that evening, the littlest evil invites himself into her trailer and slips her his goldmember. it was then that britney realized that size really doesn't matter when two people are really in sync. in the afterglow, britney sips the choice of a new generation while she contemplates the lyrics to her next hit single, 'oops, i did a midget.' "

insert crowd going wild with laughter, clapping and cries of "alright, nictate!" tv zero came up and told me i had earned a hug for the midget line. another coworker who had heard the tale of my improv teacher's "take the testicles" coaching came up and said, "nictate, you grabbed that moment by the balls!" talk about afterglow!

at the end of the event, my boss handed out a male and female spirit trophy to the two people who best showed our company chutzpah. guess who got the girlie trophy? that's right. you're very own nictator. talk about making my mama proud. i drove home on a cloud. i felt so empowered, as they say. and giddy.

about 27 hours later, i got another chance to show off my newfound testosterone.

my sister and i went out for dinner on saturday night. feeling overstuffed, we decided to take a long digestive walk to the shopping promenade near her place and then walk back with a reward: our favorite frozen yogurt. the path we always take passes by beautiful homes and manicured lawns and has always felt super safe to us, even at night.

about 9:15, we headed back home. we noshed on our fresh nectarine yogurts and sighed with taste bud delight. my sister finished her dessert first and tossed the styrofoam cup and plastic spoon into a dumpster as we walked. i was still savoring my luscious frozen fruitiness. my sister eyed my cup, knowing that we wouldn't be passing any garbage cans until we got to her place. she had learned the hard way in a previous yogurt run and knew the annoyance of getting stuck carrying a sticky container for a mile or so.

we were talking up a storm and laughing, walking under the canopy of leaves that the old magnolias spread above us. the street lights and passing cars lit up patches of sidewalk and street in irregular patterns. then it happened. a voice behind us. RIGHT behind us. TWO FUCKING FEET behind us. he spoke very calmly, softly, almost like he was a buddy saying, "hey, wait up!" but he didn't say anything that friendly to us. he said:

"don't say anything. just give me your purse."

my sister and i stopped and pivoted in unison to face him. we formed a terrible triangle. only one arm's reach away. he was latino, stocky and a bit shorter than me. he wore a bulky, black hooded sweatshirt and--for extra freaky creepiness--a black scarf over the bottom part of his face. i could see his mug from the bottom of his nose up...and what a mug it was. a dented-in nose butted up against two moles. close-set eyes without much light within them. a pointy head and wide jawline. and he had come from nowhere. like scotty had beamed him in just to stick it to us intergalactically.

i had my wallet tucked under my arm and he had obviously seen it. all during our walk on the crowded promenade, i had been paranoid someone might snatch it or knock it away from me. i had been holding it extra tight, so facing this guy now these thoughts ran through my head:

"this can't be happening........i KNEW this would happen!"

it was just like crime victims say. it was all in slow motion. it was like i was watching a movie. i could even seen the flicker of the reel sputtering on the edge of my vision like our old super 8 home movies. i slowly backed away from him. step. step. step. he pivoted to face me since i had the goods. my sister was about three feet from him, frozen in fear. i was now about five or six feet back. all i knew was that he was not getting my wallet.

i had learned in self-defense classes in the past that you're supposed to decide how you're going to handle an attack before you ever face one. are you going to fight or be passive? either choice is acceptable, but you have to know what you're going to do and don't waffle back and forth. if you're going to fight, fight with all your might. i had decided back then that i would fight. i've always wondered if i would be able to run, scream and react if faced with an attack. i've worried that i would become mute and unable to move like i do in my nightmares. well, i now have my answer.

to my left was a raised lawn surrounded by brick. i somehow sidestepped onto it, which raised me about six inches up. my sister said it made me look much more intimidating (like they tell you to do with bear attacks. ha!) it was at this point instinct totally took over. i pulled back my right arm and closed my right hand over the empty yogurt cup and spoon i was holding and hurled it towards the creep yelling, "no!!!"

more film reel sputtering as i saw him flinch and draw back. i saw the cup land on the ground about two feet in front of me. i couldn't figure out why he had reacted when it hadn't even gotten close to him. i felt that my flail was useless, but my sister told me just today that the cup or spoon or both had actually hit him! he raised his arm to block it, probably not aware of what was coming at him, and it bounced off and back down on the lawn in front of me! right then, my sister yelled "get away!" and he turned and disappeared from my vision.

then, instinct kicked into round 3 and with an intro yell of "help!" and "police!" my sister and i took off running like michael landon with wet underwear. we were both screaming, and i don't mean "ah! ah!" we were in unison with jamie lee curtis-quality, this-is-a-test-of-the-emergency-broadcasting-system screams: "ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!"

i glanced back twice to make sure he wasn't on our tails, but could only see handheld camera shadows and sidewalk. i could hear my sister's pure, operatic-quality scream and felt so proud of her.

back before we had broken into our run, my sister was able to see our assailant walking swiftly towards a station wagon that was idling at the next cross street. it must have been his getaway car. i don't know how she had her wits about her enough to see that, but i'm glad she did. between her seeing the weapon and me memorizing his face, we got a complete report for the cops.

so two blocks of booking it later, we arrived at an intersection and stopped. panting, panicked. the guy was nowhere in sight, but someone yelled something from a car nearby. on edge, we both imagined it was him and his buddies driving back to get us. a resident in shorts and barefeet was coming towards us on the other side of the street asking if we were ok. we were so freaked, we were afraid he was a bad guy, too, and shifted back and forth on our feet as he approached. when we realized he was ok, we told him we were ok and thanked him for checking on us.

we didn't know what to do next, so we started across the intersection. an elderly woman walking her dog passed us. we warned her and told her our story and she took us back into her condo to call the police. the operator at the p.d. told my sister that they'd already gotten a ton of calls about our screams. YES!!! my sister also called her friend m-girl to pick us up. i was so pumped and proud of us that i wasn't afraid to walk the rest of the way, but my wiser sister prevailed. thanking the dear old lady profusely, we went back outside to wait for our ride and then the cops showed up.

as an added bonus, one of the responding officers was stone cold handsome. dude! he didn't look or act like the stereotypical cop. he seemed quite sweet and had cool designer glasses. i bet he gets a lot of crap for those at the stationhouse. so he starts questioning us, taking notes on a little pad. then his partner pulls me aside to get my story separately. darn! my sister got the cute one!

at some point during this, my sister mentioned the knife. the knife?!! i hadn't seen a knife. a four- or five-inch blade clutched in his hand against his chest. now let me tell you, i felt totally threatened by this guy. he was like a less-lithe grim reaper or a pudgy darth vader, but if i had seen the flash of metal my sister saw, maybe i wouldn't have been so aggro with my yogo, you know? seeing the weapon is what had made her freeze in her tracks. it wasn't until she saw me fighting back that she kicked into gear. she said she was so suprised that i had been the strong one. don't underestimate what a little testosterone will do for a gal, mkay? just so you don't think i'm too foolhardy, if he would have grabbed my sister's arm or done something more threatening, i would've ditched my wallet. something about his stoicness made me bolder. it was a millisecond-by-millisecond judgment call that thankfully paid off.

so we tell our stories to our two original cops, then a detective, then a rookie. we didn't mind repeating ourselves. it felt damn good to get it documented. the police were really nice to us. very professional and polite.

while my sister briefed the rookie, m-girl and i stood to the side with stone cold cop. he seemed friendly, so i decided to make small talk.

"so," i says to the guy, "is this your usual beat?"

hahaha!

he says no, that he usually works on the rougher side of town. he also told me that our incident was only about the second in eight months in that neighborhood. we chatted briefly and i asked if the info we'd given him and his partner would be sent to the detective who had just dropped by and split. he said that the rookie would get it all to the detective.

"oh," i says, "because i gave all my contact info to your partner."

hint. hint. call meeeee. hahaha! can you believe i was scamming on an officer of the law after experiencing an attempted 211 strong arm? dude. i'm shameless. hey, miranda got a date with a cute copy in an episode of "sex and the city" when carrie got mugged. it could happen.

thing is, my sister was scoping him out, too. and she had the whole questioning bonding advantage over me. while i told the rookie my story, my sister whispered to m-girl, "isn't that cop cute? i wonder if he's single."

"um, your sister's already on that," said m-girl. "she asked him if this was his beat."

"no way!" laughed my sis. it's awful nice to be able to get a giggle out of gangland hijinks.

so, in summary, i feel damn good that i fought back, and i plan to do it again if--god forbid--i ever have to. the emotions are mixed. i still feel a bit queasy thinking of other ways the attack could have gone. it's horrifying to think what would have happened if he'd been more aggressive or used his knife. oh my god. my little sister could have been hurt. and that makes me well up with tears. but it was a wake-up call for us...and i hope for you and all the other friends we share our story with.

it was a rude awakening, but now we're more confident and aware. no more night runs. no more carrying my purse everywhere. no more "oh, i'll be fine walking back to my car alone. you guys go ahead." uh-uh.

i feel somehow different now. it was like a personal terrorist attack. i'm still slightly traumatized, but i'm coping pretty well. i can't imagine how crime victims who are physically harmed, raped or attacked in their homes deal with it. my experience was horrible enough as it was and i could go home knowing that the crook didn't know my name or where i lived.

so, from trophy wins to trophy crime foiling, it was a full weekend. i'm getting in touch with my inner man, and it feels damn good. after the mugging, i was even playing with the idea of trying out for police academy. ha! just in case i do pursue a career in law enforcement, i should start practicing. so here's my uniformed message to you:

let's be careful out there.

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