I went to Best Buy first, and that may have been my problem. That store is big enough to overwhelm anyone. I wanted to return a pair of headphones I'd bought there last week. But when I got to the enormous wall of headphones to pick out a different pair, I realized that it'd taken me half an hour to pick out the original pair. So I just decided to keep them and get out of there.

Then I hit the mall proper. I was still optimistic, mind you. But somehow I got sidetracked for half an hour at the Museum Co. of all places, despite needing absolutely nothing in that store. Then I went to Macy's, worming my way through the madding crowd, past endless rows of glittering jewelry cases. By the time I actually made it to the shoe department, I was utterly exhausted and had to get out of there right away.

I bought nothing on my list.

People must have to shop often enough to build up a tolerance to seeing such a large number of objects and people in one place.

Friday, October 18, 2002

• If you must remain in one place in an area where you feel vulnerable, select the darkest part of the area to sit or stand in.
• If you must stand outside, try to keep some type of protective cover between yourself and any open areas where a sniper might be located. For example, if you are fueling your car, stand between your vehicle and the gas pump and bend your knees to lower your profile.

Note: These are *not* to be confused with the guidelines for dressing as Clifford the Big Red Dog.

Wednesday, October 16, 2002

Tuesday, October 15, 2002

My boss gave me cab fare to get home from work tonight. And I felt a little wimpy taking it. But I figured I might as well save myself the worrying. After I caught a cab, the driver and I got on the subject of the sniper attacks. "What I can't understand," he said, "is how there was all those people around, and nobody stopped him! They all ran for cover!"

He was from Nigeria, he said, and in his country no one would stand for some idiot going around shooting people. If they witnessed a shooting, they'd run after the shooter. He, for one, would've taken his car and rammed it into the van to stop him. "I'm only going to die one time," he said in his elegant Nigerian accent. "I'm not going to die like a rat."

Of course, he's an old pro at playing the vigilante. In D.C., two men with guns once stole his car. He chased them down an alley, then threw a brick through one of the windows. They rammed into a lampost, and a police car was ready to arrest them. Another time, someone got into the cab with a gun and asked for all his money. The cab driver said, "If you're going to kill me, I'm going to take you with me." He slammed his foot on the gas, going straight for a brick wall. The would-be mugger jumped out.

What we need, said the cab driver, is a witness to go after this sniper instead of running away. "If I was there, I would try to stop him any way that I could," he said.

What do you do when you live in the Washington, D.C. area these days? When every nightly newscast sounds like a made-for-t.v. movie? When your boss jokes, "Hopefully I'll make it back, guys!" before he goes to get gas? When you lie awake listening to a helicopter circle the area? You vow not to let some psycho's mind games affect your routine. But still, every time you see a white van or box truck, your stomach flutters for a beat. And sometimes, you take a cab home from work.

Sunday, October 13, 2002

Once Clifford made his grand entrance, the mob of kids was fairly well-behaved. Though they did pull on his nose, lift up his ears, and rub his snout vigorously.

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