(One rainy Sunday, my best friend and I go for lunch at one of our favorite fast food places. As we’re leaving, she asks if we can swing by the mall across the street so she can run into the bookstore and get a drink from that famous coffee chain. I agree on the condition that I don’t have to go in. I drop her at the bookstore entrance, and then loop around the parking lot so I can idle the car in front of the door until she comes out. My car has this function where all of the doors automatically unlock when I put it in park, but my mind is wandering and I don’t think about this. I’m in the process of retrieving my cell phone from my purse to put it on the charger when one of the door opens.)

Me: *not looking* “Are you done already? Why are you getting in the back seat?”

(I look up and meet the eyes of a complete stranger. A young man is staring at me in a kind of horror.)

Me: “Can I help you?!”

Man: “You… you aren’t my Lyft driver, are you?”

Me: “Uh, no.”

Man: “Oh, God. I’m so sorry.”

(He shut the door and scurried back to where he had been waiting. For the record, I’m not a Lyft OR Uber driver and do not have one of those identifying stickers on my car. As soon as he shut the door, I locked the car and texted my friend to HURRY UP. I understand that waiting around to be picked up is annoying and dull, but for heaven’s sake, make sure you’re looking at the right car before you try to get in!)

(I’m a producer for a video game publishing company. I’m flying back from a business trip and making small talk with the guy seated next to me. He looks to be quite a bit older than me, maybe in his early 50s. He says, very smugly, that he works “in law.” When he asks what I do and I tell him, he scoffs.)

Guy: “Video games?”

Me: “Yes.”

Guy: *rolling his eyes and smirking* “Okay. That’s cute when you’re young, I guess. Well, you’ll grow out of it one day.”

Me: “I’m 34.”

Guy: “I’m just saying it’s a fun hobby, honey, not a career.”

Me: “I’ve been doing it for twelve years.”

Guy: “I’m just saying.”

(The woman seated on my other side, who is also quite a bit older than I am and hasn’t said ANYTHING up to this point, finally speaks up without raising her eyes from her book.)

Woman: “Yeah. Maybe she should just age into being a boring, condescending, judgemental jerk with a poor concept of personal hygiene who doesn’t know not to take his shoes off on a plane.”

(I think I gave myself a cramp trying not to burst out into shocked laughter. All I managed was to sort of double over snorting. He turned red, then sneered at her and said he “didn’t have time for immaturity,” and pulled out his laptop for the rest of the flight. I hadn’t actually been offended because by now I have heard it all when it comes to assumptions about my job, both good and bad, and I love what I do, but I have never had one stranger put another in their place on my behalf so sharply and effortlessly, before or since. It’s nice to have someone stand up for you. I hope as I grow older I can both have her confidence to do the same for someone else, and be assured that no matter who I talk to or what they do, I will never ever be like THAT guy.)

(I get off the bus and run into some British Heart Foundation volunteers offering free CPR training.)

BHF: “Hi there. Do you have eight minutes to learn how to save a life?”

Old Couple: “Oh, no, thanks, dear. We’ve lived enough already!”

I’m in my car heading home from work during rush hour. Things go fine, until someone cuts me off. I slam my brakes and push the horn. I see the driver giving me the finger. Angry, I flip one back. That turns out to be a mistake.

The other driver tries to stay in front of me. If I change lanes, he changes lanes. He often brakes suddenly, forcing me to brake, as well. I am upset, but try to remain calm and avoid an accident.

The other driver then tries to push me off the road! Panicking, I do everything to stay on the road. I take an exit earlier, hoping to get rid of him. The driver takes the same exit.

While we are driving, I suddenly see the driver turn around on his seat! He makes a slicing motion across his neck, and then uses both hands to make a gun shape, making a shooting motion. Because I am baffled and panicking, I don’t think about calling the police; I just want to get out of there.

I take another exit and the driver follows me. I know there’s a traffic light coming up and I know the pattern. I slow down. The driver rushes to the light, ends up in front of me, and opens the door, getting out.

Because I know the pattern, I know when it will hit green. I keep on rolling down the hill and when the light hits green, I hit the gas and take an empty lane. I pass the driver and manage to lose him in traffic.

When I get home, I call the non-emergency line for the police. They take my story. I remembered the make and license plate; it turns out the car was uninsured, but they can’t follow up on that without a reason. I am invited at the police station. There, I am told that because I didn’t call right away, there’s no proof of this road rage. I can press charges, but in the end it will be his word against mine. Instead, I let them take note of it. If someone else makes a complaint of this person, they will have two notes, and that will make it easier to press charges for that other person.

That same night, I buy a dash-cam.

(I am sitting in the tram, on my way home. A young man enters the tram.)

Young Man: “Excuse me, can I ask something? I lost my phone and I was sitting here before. Did you see something?”

Me: “No, I didn’t, but I could’ve missed it. Let me get up for you.”

Young Man: “No, no! That’s absolutely not needed!”

Me: “It’s okay; I need to get off soon, anyway.”

(The young man looks uneasy, as if he didn’t expect me to get up. I also notice he has a phone in his hand. Still, I step aside and the young man starts looking.)

Young Man: “Eh… I could’ve been sitting over there… Thanks, anyway.”

(The young man walked away and got off the next stop. At the next stop he apparently saw someone he knew, as the two nodded at each other. I decided to remain standing; I needed to get off the next stop, anyway. I then thought, “Wait, how does he even know this is the same tram? Wouldn’t you get on on the opposite direction, then?” At home I checked my things and everything was accounted for. Still, I decides to send a message to the tram company. They then informed me they would send my description through to security. It was most likely a trick to either pick my pockets or bag, or even try to scan my bank card — it has a chip so you don’t have to swipe it, but can hold it close to the machine, instead. He also could’ve asked me to use my phone to call his, to see if we could hear it, so he could snatch the phone from my hands, or follow me with his friend to ambush me and steal it. I am now very glad I stepped aside so he couldn’t reach my bag, that I always keep my bag closed, and that I have so much junk in there that scanning would be very difficult. Plus, I have a phone that doesn’t even have Internet.)