So, it took me an hour and a half to walk to the Charleston Market from my hotel and fifteen, maybe twenty minutes to walk back. In other words, I got very, very lost. But the University of Charleston is quite lovely this time of year, let me tell you. And I was having fun looking at all the old houses.
The houses in Charleston kind of remind me of castles in a way, where the outsides either are gated or have big tall stairs and the fronts are kind of imposting, but then, you turn and look at the side, and there are gardens and long two-level porches running the length of the house.
Anyway, I could not get the scary dudes to leave me alone–one guy asked me for bus fare and when I ignored him, he cut through a block ahead of me to ask me again. Then another guy tried to trap me between a wall and him as I was coming back to the hotel and it was only because I was all “Back off” and some guy coming out of the hotel came over to see what was going on that I got away and then the weird crowder dude was all “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were going to work.”
And I was all “If only I had a man with me, I would command him to punch you in the face.”
Anyway, I’m glad Heather is coming to show me around on Saturday because I saw a bunch of stuff, but I didn’t know what any of it was.
I’m still kind of mad about the dudes, though. I have no idea what you’re supposed to do in situations like that, but I hate them. DO NOT APPROACH ME. I am a woman alone. You come up to me, it’s not flirty, it’s fucking terrifying.
Honestly, the older I get, the more I think men should be banned from owning guns and women should be issued them on their 16th birthdays. Guns, not unarmed men. But you knew that.
Tiny Cat Pants 
You need anger, not a man. And a rock for your fist.
Or a kubaton (Neat, but like all weapons, learn how to use it effectively and without having to think about how, or you will get hurt)
I used to carry a kubaton (or “attitude adjuster” as my instructor called it) but the only thing I ever used it for was busting open feed bags and stuff. Made it very easy to find my car keys, though.
If you’re going to carry a kuboton, then get the kind with the side spikes, like this:
http://picasaweb.google.com/bryansteel/TrainingWeapons#5226255555646748178
Personally, I’d prefer a knife.
I dunno, in the short term, I think I’d rather go up against a knife than someone who knows how to use a kubaton properly. A knife can kill your or cause permanent damage, but it can’t touch the initial pain a kubaton can inflict (and let’s face it, if you’re trying to get an attacker into pain submission, it’s that initial pain that counts, not whether they live or die later).
Hello! Me. We’re talking about me. I think you all know that, if there’s a way to hurt yourself with an item, I will find a way to do it. I can’t be armed with something that’s going to accidentally be used against me by me.
dolphin, we are talking about aunt B, here, so take the “someone who knows how” out of the equation.
Sure it hurts to get poked with a kubaton, but it’s generally not debilitating. Basically, our little B would probably cause her attacker to take a step back, then get really pissed off. Seeing one’s own blood is often more intimidating. Not to mention, you can’t slash with a kubaton.
I also don’t see B getting her attacker into a pain submission lock with a kubaton or anything else, so you’re looking at poking.
B, I am so sorry that assholes are vexing you in a lovely place that you’re otherwise enjoying.
With your already-magnificent presence and attitude, though, a simple, “Dude, I told you to eff off. Do it. NOW. I don’t want folks to have to find your corpse tomorrow morning,” accompanied by a casual but practiced reach to your favored-hand waistband or your opposite underarm (pretend you’re Mariska Hargitay when you practice in the mirror, whoooo), will leave them gaping while you stride proudly away to safety.
It has worked for me. Thrice. And my carcass is bigger than anybody’s on these boards (I am not saying that boastfully, just stating a well-known and yet strangely nondissuading fact) and I still get these idiots. I just have that “dude, don’t make me use this” response in my arsenal at all times, along with a smile, a hello, a handshake, and other more appropriate responses to people I meet on the street. I don’t carry a handgun (I am trained to use one), but I carry the attitude that goes with it, and it serves me well. As far as I’m concerned, there IS a gun in my waistband when I do that, and it comes across exactly that way.
I pray the rest of your trip is wonderful and fun and exhausting in a good way and that you return home soon to a thousand dog smooches and a pile of leaves under your own trees in your own backyard.
Ex, if you really know what you’re doing, you don’t “poke” with a kubaton. You wrap it around a bony appendage like a knuckle and pull it tight. If you REALLY know what you’re doing you know exactly where to do it.
We got just a bit of training with them in my Jiu-Jitsu class (they work on the same principle as certain locks we do with our hands). They can easily immobilize you in pain long before they get to the point of doing any damage to your body.
I agree with everything you’re saying, dolphin. I just don’t think it applies very well to aunt b. A spinning hook kick can easily break the skull, too. It just doesn’t apply here.
I’m always worried about giving too much confidence to people with only basic self defense training.
We don’t want aunt b getting a kubaton, watching Charles Bronson movies and wandering the streets of Nashville at night.
You know how emotional she gets.
Pingback: Just to Make You Feel at Home, Instapundit Folks « Tiny Cat Pants