Our pal Annie learned something last week on her way to 16th and Valencia. Here’s how it starts:
I was walking quickly on 16th Street, keenly aware of the six minutes that remained before I’d be late — and I hate being late — when I heard a man call out to a woman. “Excuse me! Miss?” he said. I kept walking. He kept calling. Then I turned and realized he was talking to me.
I am ashamed to admit that when a strange man approaches me in the city, my first instinct is to wonder if he wants money or to sexually harass me. Because of this response, I am always a little guarded. I looked at the man slowly.