I’m sitting at Starbucks this morning with my iPad, finishing my coffee, and watching the sun come up. It’s 6am. I’m hungry. I decide to walk to my favorite breakfast joint, about a mile away.

The sky is lit up. It’s beautiful. It’s warm already. It’s going to be really hot today. I start walking.

I like walking. It’s the only time I can think clearly. Otherwise I have too many distractions in my life–iPad, computer, cell phone, Kindle, trying to pay attention while driving, etc. I’m pretty good at walking, and I can think at the same time.

Lately there have been a lot of things on my mind that need to be thought through. I’m looking forward to my 30 minute walk. I’m enjoying the morning breeze, I’m walking, and I’m thinking about stuff.

Then I pass a side street and notice a sketchy looking guy walking in my direction. I hope he doesn’t turn my way. I make a mental note and keep walking.

I pass a car parked on the side of the street with its windows rolled down. I can feel that guy behind me. I keep walking.

Just when I’m sure that dude would be passing the car behind me, I turn around and see him stopped, head and hands inside of the car. I don’t like this.

I keep walking.

I can feel that guy behind me now. I can hear his footsteps. He’s walking faster than me. He’s going to overtake me. This makes me a bit nervous.

I cross the street.

He crosses the street.

I shift my iPad sleeve to my left hand. I reach down with my right hand and feel the handle of my folding tactical blade clipped in my front pocket. I remember all the times I’ve practiced deploying this knife, removing it from my pocket, flicking open the blade, gripping the pocketknife firmly.

Now the guy is right behind me, coming up on my right side. He’s walking in the street, a few feet away from me, looking ahead and behind him.

I know what he’s doing. He’s sizing me up. He wants to know what I’m carrying. He’s wondering if I’m a victim. He’s looking for an opportunity.

I turn to look him in the eye, my face expressionless. I face forward again.

I keep walking.

My pulse quickens. I’m not afraid. I’m doing my best to remain calm. I’m ready. I remember the years of Karate in Long Beach, and I focus on controlling my breathing. I’m confident.

I can see that this guy looks like a young Charles Manson. He’s strung out on something. He speaks.

“Hey man, how’s it goin’?”

At this point I’m angry. All I wanted was to walk in peace to my favorite diner for some eggs and bacon. I was counting on some good alone-time to clear my head. And this guy has just fucked that plan all the hell up.

I turn to him, look him straight in the eye, and say, “So far, so good.” I fondle the clip of my knife. I hope he sees it.

Then I add, “Let’s keep it that way” and give him my best you-don’t-want-to-fuck-with-me-pal smile.

My face is again a blank slate. Chest out, shoulders back, right hand at my side. Ready. I will not be a victim, I tell myself silently.

A moment later meth-dude wisely crosses the street. I look over my shoulder and see him turn down a side street and disappear.

And I keep walking.