Unsafe?

There have been a few times in my life when I have felt scared or unsafe. It is a very lonely feeling. My stomach twists into knots, and my heartbeat speeds up. Adrenaline pumps through me and I feel like running, faster than I’ve ever run before. But I am frozen, my legs like jelly, weak in the knees, vulnerable and helpless.

I remember distinctly the first time this happened. I was in the city with my dad. We were eating up around the Museum of Natural History. It was late by the time we walked the block back to the car. It was dark and I was terrified. I jumped at every loud noise and the block seemed to stretch on forever.

Strange, I suppose, that I would want to move here. But there was something about the energy that came with feeling nervous that was exciting. There was so much to discover, so much going on.

Since moving to the city, there have been a few times when this feeling has come back.

I was in a deli in Harlem, which was held up in the middle of the night, waiting for a grilled cheese sandwich for an actor while working on “Carlito’s Way 2.” I remember backing slowly into the chip aisle not knowing what to do, as a crazy guy waved a knife in the deli owner’s face.

I was mugged outside of my dorm on Third Avenue. I remember the feeling in my shoulders as my assailant grabbed me and roughly pushed me up against the wall. In the end, I pleaded with him that the five dollars in my wallet had to last me a whole week. He walked into the deli and got change, we split the money and then he gave me a hug.

I spent the night on the street, accidentally, after a long night of drinking. That I don’t remember so well, but I am eternally thankful nothing bad happened.

Even after these situations have passed, it takes a few days before I feel normal again. It’s all part of my relationship with the city, constantly shifting, a series of highs and lows. New York can be the best and the worst place in the world, almost at the same time.

Recently, my house in Brooklyn was broken into. The burglar took only three things: a Nintendo Wii game system, an iPod and a set of iPod speakers. All of them belonged to my roommate Robin.

It was days before we even noticed that anything was missing. There was no sign of forced entry. The house looked the same. That almost made it scarier. It was much easier to believe that the speakers and iPod had simply been misplaced. But after Robin made us swear that we weren’t playing a trick on him, we decided to accept that a stranger had been inside our home.

We stood in the living room, trying to figure out exactly what happened. Was it the occasionally left unlocked back door?

We came to the conclusion that someone had stolen the spare key. It was gone from its cleverly placed hiding spot. It must have been someone who lives nearby, we decided, someone who had seen us retrieving it, unlocking the door and replacing it.

“We should change the locks.” Ryan said.

“Like right now,” Robin said.

In unison, we pulled out our cell phones to check the time. Twelve-thirty. The hardware store was closed.

The feeling started very small, an afterthought really. But it was as if we all thought of it at the same time. Whoever had been in our house could come back.

As I lay in bed that night, there was a twist in my stomach; every sound was someone else coming in. I had never realized how noisy our house is in the middle of the night. Nor had I, in the two years that I’ve lived here, felt unsafe before.

It’s a strange thing when some place that is usually comforting and welcoming-home-becomes strange and eerie. It’s much different than a deli late at night, or an empty block. There is nowhere to run. This is where I am supposed to feel safe.

Even after Ryan changed the locks, and we vowed to actually lock the back door and the deadbolt, and not forget our keys, even after all of that, I was still hearing people outside. I could practically see them trying the old key, having it not work, taking a step back and staring up, silently vowing to get back inside and continue to terrorize us.

My roommates heard things outside as well. An old woman going through our cans was suddenly someone trying to scale the outside wall.

These were obviously not realistic thoughts. It’s amazing how powerful one’s mind is, and how impossible it is to turn it off.

Situations like this are reminders that we live in a city. A sometimes dangerous city. It’s not something that can be ignored, because as soon as that small fact is forgotten, it’s too late.

There are times when I’m too careless. These experiences serve as a reminder to be careful and cautious. It’s a shame that Robin suffered the brunt of our collective lesson. The rest of us got off easy.

- Zachary Stuart-Pontier