I was on vacation in Vegas for one week. It was Spring and I was in the mood for sightseeing since i am on vacation from school and i needed stories to tell my pals when i get back to school. It was my first time been in Vegas, i wanted to visit the casinos, sight see, shop, visit the museum and every other interesting places. I just wanted to have fun.
The night had abruptly ended after a brief attempt of bar hoping and sight seeing with some friends i made in Vegas. They were all tired and wanted to go to bed
So I left my friends and went cruising on the streets in my economy rental mobile.
Discovering that the area i was has no other street corner vices than a plethora of early morning hookers, I headed across the bridge into the unknown.
I took the first exit off I-95. Took a right between a beautiful lit performing arts center, the John Arsht building. The structure was impressive, unlike anything seen in Miami where i came from– more out of place than anything – a look into the future possibly for the Magic city…
As I drove away from the brick road that was laid in between the Center, I rocked my head to the house music booming from my radio. Chewing a gum, keeping my eyes peeled for any sign of criminal activity – sadly, it seems that’s an attribute that has been well mastered by me.
And then like an oasis, the Vegas underworld opened its doors. The welcoming mat: black and white hookers walk the streets, and guys on little bikes ride cross the street,Surprisingly each guy on a bike was just a guy on a bike.
For some reason the action of the main strip was dying down. The streetwalkers weren’t back to back as they were at the start of this street, and their appearance dropped from young and sexy to haggard and decrepit.
First block was nothing but a poorly lit road, which seemed to continue as far as I can see. I decided to turn around and head back the other way at the next corner. But up ahead a car stops and parks diagonally in the middle of the street as if he was going to back up into a driveway. I wait a bit for the reverse lights to light up but only the red brake lights illume my dashboard. I flicker my hi-beams to later receive a “Hey there”, from a black man approaching my window.
Normally this situation would be setting off warning bells. But no sounds could be heard. I lowered my window.
“Hey, what’s up?”
“Hey man, do you know how you can get to the beach?”
Still no bells.
“Sure,” I said. “ Just go straight down the street until you pass an awesome big building, it’s lit and everything. And just passed that you should hit 75. Just take it S—.”
And in an instant he reached in and turned the ignition key off. I was too slow to advert his entrance but just quick enough to wrench his arm out from pulling the key. He wrestled back in with both arms this time for the key. A bit shell-shocked as to what was going on, I mechanically defended the key. Hitting his arms, pulling them out from the wheel, elbowing his chin and prying back his fingers. I didn’t have time to breathe. I felt like I was twisting in a runaway carousel. I needed to focus, and that’s when I saw beyond the mess of fighting arms another man opening the driver’s side door of the car.
This wasn’t good. I had to get out quick.
A flurry of moving arms trail just inches from my face. White and black arms collide, hitting one another. I act instinctively. There’s no thought, no hesitation. I feel a face beneath my hand and push it away. A man from the car in front of mine steps out from the driver side. He’s walking to the front of my rental. I reach for the key in the ignition. Turn it. Nothing.
I consider the moment. Foolishly pensive as the dark figure stops by my car’s front grill. What to do now? I’m in the middle of Miami’s ghetto, no one is awake and I’m seconds away from being shot to death. Another dead tourist in Miami will be the headlines in the morning news. How the fuck do I start this car?
I needed the man fighting with me to leave me alone. I sprung my right hand out to grasp the man’s face, and forcefully pushed him back onto the floor.
I turned the ignition key. Nothing. What is it? I didn’t have time for an anxiety attack. A thought popped up! I once stalled a car this same way. When I first started driving I turned the ignition key off by mistake when the car was in drive. The car wasn’t able to turn on only until I moved the gear back to park. Then was I able to start the car.
It felt as if something was guiding me to move the right controls of the car. To slide the shifter into park without a stutter. To have my hand and feet work in unison. It was like if I was a vampire with lightning fast actions. And without cracking a smile for successfully turning the car back on, I moved the car into reverse. At the same time the man standing ahead of me was raising his arm. I swerved to the left and then to the right, weaving as fast as I was driving.
Then the window popped suddenly like if it was fed up being a window and exploded with anger; I didn’t hear a gunshot, all I saw was a light from the gun. Everything went so fast that it wasn’t registering.
But when it clicked that I was just shot at, my first gut feeling, as bravado as it may seem, was to chase him down and rain my terror upon him. But as I was speeding down the street, with the wind whipping through the shattered window, I thought to myself, “What am I going to do when I reach them?”
So I abandoned the idea. And left the area as quick as i could.
As I drive back I feel sober, energized and thankful that I’m alive. I wanted to dance. I wanted sleep. I wanted to…
It was an incidence i wont forget for a long time but am grateful to God that am still alive