Eugh. Creepers.
I guess I must give off an aura of "don't fuck with me" because by and large people don't fuck with me. I guess I hold myself in a way that makes it clear that I'm ready and willing to kick your ass if you give me reason to. The exception is last night.
I was walking home at about 7 last night, and a few doors down from my building there's some scaffolding where they're doing some construction, and a couple guys were standing under it. I'm used to seeing people under there doing work so I thought nothing of it and just walked under it. But then one of the guys started making pig noises and the other asked if he could borrow my wallet. I just kept walking since my door was about 20 feet away and they didn't deserve any sort of acknowledgment. I also made sure the outer door was tightly locked and told the other people in the building that these creeps were down there.
When we had one of the downstairs neighbors come up later she said that a few minutes after I came in she heard "an older Italian gentleman" who lives next door come out and tell them to get lost using language that he'll probably have to talk about in confessional on Sunday, showing one of the nicer parts about living in the North End, mainly that they do not suffer creepers gladly.
I was walking home at about 7 last night, and a few doors down from my building there's some scaffolding where they're doing some construction, and a couple guys were standing under it. I'm used to seeing people under there doing work so I thought nothing of it and just walked under it. But then one of the guys started making pig noises and the other asked if he could borrow my wallet. I just kept walking since my door was about 20 feet away and they didn't deserve any sort of acknowledgment. I also made sure the outer door was tightly locked and told the other people in the building that these creeps were down there.
When we had one of the downstairs neighbors come up later she said that a few minutes after I came in she heard "an older Italian gentleman" who lives next door come out and tell them to get lost using language that he'll probably have to talk about in confessional on Sunday, showing one of the nicer parts about living in the North End, mainly that they do not suffer creepers gladly.