Ladies, Is Your Spidey Sense Tingling?
Trust your gut. It might just save your life.
There’s been a number of times that a gut feeling has saved me from serious harm. Sometimes it’s helped me avoid a car accident or kept me from putting myself in a dangerous situation.
On one particular occasion, it probably kept my face off the local news — as an abducted or missing person.
I was a young newlywed in a college town just after dark. I’d lived in this area for over five years, so even with all the drunk frat boys and the shady alleys, I still felt pretty safe. I’d dealt with catcalls, flashers, and quite literally a stalker my freshman year, so I probably should have been on higher alert.
Instead, I was feeling excited and optimistic about a new job. I was practically skipping as I cut through a dimly lit parking garage. Work had gone really well, dinner was delicious, and I was almost giddy. I was looking forward to getting home with my husband.
He’d gone to retrieve our car from a parking lot a few blocks away, while I paid our bill at the restaurant. I took the shortcut through the garage just to save a little time when an older, silver sedan slowed and the driver’s window rolled down. The man inside beckoned me over and asked for help.
Something just didn’t feel quite right.
It wasn’t uncommon for out-of-towners to be lost, and being asked for directions wasn’t unusual. Even so, my spidey sense was tingling. For that reason, I maintained a significant distance between me and the car while I acknowledged the man inside.
The space between us forced us to practically shout back and forth. It also made me comfortable enough to respond, rather than just ignore him. I know now that I was trying to make a bad situation feel safe. I should have simply kept walking.
The man paid me a compliment and then quickly transitioned to feigning ignorance. He claimed not to know how to work the kiosk on that floor.
This wasn’t a gated garage, which was unusual for the area. You parked, entered your spot’s identification number into the kiosk, prepaid, took your ticket for proof, and went on your merry way.
The ticket stayed in your window if you wanted, but it really was just a backup in case the system had a glitch.
The stranger stated he would pull into a nearby spot, and asked that I walk him through using the kiosk. From across the isle, I gave him basic instructions and told him I had to go.
His pleas became more urgent, and he gestured toward the spot where he said he would park. The nagging feeling that something wasn’t right got even stronger.
I said “Sorry, but my husband is waiting outside…” and I started to back away.
Then I saw the ticket — sitting right there on his dash.
My hair stood on end and my stomach dropped.
My face must have given me away because suddenly, the man opened his door and moved toward me. I was about 15 feet away, which gave me the head start I needed to turn and bolt.
I didn’t look back, but I heard his door slam and tires squeal as he raced out of the garage exit.
I didn’t stop running until I jumped into the passenger seat next to my husband. I locked the doors and yelled at him to drive.
Breathless, I told him what happened. At first, I don’t think he realized how serious I was, but as I explained everything, he turned away from our route home and quietly drove to the nearest police station.
Filing the police report
At first, I felt a little silly. The parking garage kidnapping attempt is just a movie trope, right? Still, I knew that area was monitored by a security feed, and I felt obligated to report what had happened.
If the man was dangerous, then maybe I could help prevent this from happening to someone else. If I had misinterpreted somehow, the police could watch the video easily enough.
No harm done.
Sheepishly, I explained through the security glass that I wanted to make a report about an attempted abduction, and an officer paged us through the front door.
We entered a plain room. My husband kept his hand in mine for reassurance. There was no two-way mirror or anything dramatic, and this tired-looking, bored officer began to take notes.
At first, I was almost apologetic and even as scared as I had been, I started doubting myself even more.
Explaining what happened felt overly dramatic. I wasn’t living in a true-crime drama. Things like that don’t happen in real life…
The officer started with our information and the location of “the incident”. As I described the car and the driver, suddenly the officer perked up and his questions became more specific.
Make and model of the car? I gave my best guesses, but couldn’t be sure.
Color?
Blue-grey or silver, definitely.
License plate?
Sorry… Didn’t get a look.
Identifying features?
White, middle-aged, and pretty plain. No distinguishing features, dark hair. Sorry, the garage was dim.
I reminded the officer that this particular garage had security cameras, especially near the kiosk where it happened, and he should check the tapes. Suddenly, he agreed and left the room for a bit.
We learn just how close I came to real danger.
When the officer returned, he handed me his card and asked for more details. This time, he was a bit more focused.
I re-explained that it happened really fast, and I didn’t have anything to add. I asked him why he was so interested now. Did he really think the man was dangerous?
The officer explained that for the past couple of days there had been a man that fit the same description stalking the local middle and high schools. He harassed some teenage girls as they walked home and tried to convince them to get in his car.
Luckily, no one had been so naive and he angrily left before any adults got involved.
Then, earlier the same day, a man grabbed a girl walking home from school and tried to drag her to his car. Her friends intervened and they managed to escape and report it. That man’s car matched my description.
It had to be the same person. It wasn’t a fluke. I’d just escaped a predator.
I sat there, stunned. I felt a strange mix of cold and numbness. I hadn’t been making a big deal out of nothing. I hadn’t been imagining it or exaggerating it. The man I met in the garage was dangerous.
What if I hadn’t kept my distance?
What if I’d let my normal inclination to be helpful get the better of me?
What if I hadn’t listened to the gut feeling that had pierced my rosy bubble that evening?
What if?
My warning for other ladies
The police hoped that I’d gotten a look at his license plate or a better look at him so they could finally get this terrifying man off the streets. Unfortunately, I wasn’t much help.
All I could do was corroborate the description provided by the other girls and remind them to check the security tapes.
I never did get a call back from the police. Maybe the man got spooked and stopped, or maybe he moved on or changed M.O.s. All I know is that I never saw him again, and no abductions hit the news for the next year that we lived in town.
The fact that I never got a follow-up call bothers me sometimes.
Did they never catch him? Was it a stolen car and that’s why the police couldn’t identify the owner?
I still have so many questions, and it’s been over a decade.
What I know for sure is that predators like the one I met rely on women and girls wanting to be helpful — even to strange men in dark parking garages.
Ted Bundy was well known for this. He famously preyed on his victims’ willingness to help a perfect stranger.
This single fact allowed him to abduct them from parking areas after hours and even in public — in broad daylight.
Therein lies my lesson for ladies everywhere. Don’t let strangers asking for help get too close.
Listen to your gut.
You’ll probably want to be helpful. After all, girls in our society are actually conditioned to be accommodating. From a young age, we’re taught to be kind and cooperative, even at our own expense. If you’re in scouts like I was, it’s even part of the pledge you make.
“On my honor, I will try: To serve God and my country, To help people at all times, And to live by the Girl Scout Law.”
Ladies, it’s time to stop helping people at all times and just listen to your gut. I should have walked away. I shouldn’t have even hesitated.
I was on my own and dealing with a stranger’s request for assistance. My hesitation could have cost me so much more just a scary evening.
What if he’d had a weapon? What if he had pulled up closer? What if I hadn’t listened to the tingle on the back of my neck and the pit in my stomach?
Ladies, don’t be helpful if it puts you anywhere near a potentially dangerous situation.
It’s better to be rude to a stranger than abducted or worse. Let your spidey-sense protect you — and walk or run away.
