Normally I stray from posting anything too personal on my blog. I try to keep things decently lighthearted, pop culture related, and fun, but I feel as though I need an outlet to tell my story and that there is no better place than my blog right now.
Let me first say that there have been very few times that I have ever felt unsafe in this city. I love New York, I make choices to stay in "good" neighborhoods, and I choose to surround myself with upstanding citizens. Apparently, sometimes none of that matters.
Last night, my life as a bartender took a turn for the worst. Around 2 AM, I was enjoying a post-work glass of wine with one of my regulars when two men in masks, with guns came in and held us at gunpoint. We were forced onto our stomachs on the ground, empty our pockets, and robbed. Aside from me being bruised where the assailants stepped on my thighs and back, nobody got hurt.
To quote Clueless, "when you're about to die, your mind sort of gets very clear." It's totally true. Through all of the terror and trauma of being held at gunpoint, my mind sorted itself out into very few categories. The first was my fear of never seeing my family again, and right behind that was the thought of someone who used to be in my life and no longer is.
I'm still not at all clear about it. My head is fuzzy, I'm just retelling the same story over and over, and have yet to decide if I'll even be able to go into work today. I consider myself lucky that nobody got hurt, lucky that I was not alone at the time, and luckier still that I have the most amazingly supportive friends and family to help me deal with everything.
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