{"id":381,"date":"2004-06-07T10:21:14","date_gmt":"2004-06-07T14:21:14","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/blogs.law.harvard.edu\/snarl\/2004\/06\/07\/hey-mangju-having-a-rough-day\/"},"modified":"2004-06-07T10:21:14","modified_gmt":"2004-06-07T14:21:14","slug":"hey-mangju-having-a-rough-day","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/archive.blogs.harvard.edu\/snarl\/2004\/06\/07\/hey-mangju-having-a-rough-day\/","title":{"rendered":"Hey, Mang…Ju Having a Rough Day?"},"content":{"rendered":"

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Most people know that carrying protection is a prerequisite for living in a big city. Without it, you can never guarantee your safety on a dimly lit street or in the gritty subway system. Ever since I moved to Boston at 18 years old, I’ve carried something. That was until yesterday… <\/P>
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I was visiting a friend in the South End and decided I didn’t want to have to lug anything around in my book bag. So, all I carried with me was my cell phone and an umbrella (it looked like rain). I boarded the Orange Line at North Station (note: I absolutely hate the Orange Line) and only made it one stop before trouble began.<\/P>
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At Haymarket Station, a gang of 4 youths (late teens to early 20’s) loudly boarded the train intentionally making their presence known to all other passengers. Of course, they sat on the same side as me (with one seat separating us). After the doors shut, though, the guy closest to me decided to eliminate the space between us by sliding next to me. The rest of the gang followed suit. Lucky me – I was surrounded.<\/P>
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I closed my eyes to appear as if I was oblivious to what was going on around me…in hopes that they would chat with each other about current affairs. No such luck. The fellow closest to me, wearing his baggy pants finest, asked “Hey, man…you having a rough day?” (though, his accent made it sound more like the title of this posting). I responded, “Yeah”, closed my eyes and prayed the conversation would end. It didn’t.<\/P>
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But, to be honest, I blanked out at that point. I recall him turning to his friends, mockingly, and telling them that I was having a rough day, but can’t even remember what else he said to me. At that point…the train was enterring State Street Station so the doors opened. I strategically waited a few seconds and then quickly got up and walked out the door as they were closing (so they wouldn’t be able to follow – a trick I’ve seen in countless movies).<\/P>
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I got to street level and decided to walk a few blocks to the Green Line (which I prefer anyway) since my friend lives close to the Green Line, too. As I walked through Downtown Crossing, countless homeless people approached me for money or to tell me of the wonders of Jesus. Things improved once I got the Park Street Station.<\/P>
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So, you may be wondering what sort of protection I would have needed in a case like this. Well, let me tell you. The same protection could have been used for both the gang and the solicitors on the street – and I regret my irresponsibility for not being prepared.<\/P>
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That protection is a Discman. Better than any gun or pepper spray, a Discman makes you oblivious to your surroundings…and prevents people from approaching you. It’s a miracle device that helps maintain sanity and makes the city more livable. It assists in avoiding confrontation, while simultaneously providing audio pleasure to the user.<\/P>
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I’ve learned my lesson from yesterday.<\/P><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Most people know that carrying protection is a prerequisite for living in a big city. Without it, you can never guarantee your safety on a dimly lit street or in the gritty subway system. Ever since I moved to Boston at 18 years old, I’ve carried something. That was until yesterday… I was visiting a […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":74,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-381","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/archive.blogs.harvard.edu\/snarl\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/381","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/archive.blogs.harvard.edu\/snarl\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/archive.blogs.harvard.edu\/snarl\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/archive.blogs.harvard.edu\/snarl\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/74"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/archive.blogs.harvard.edu\/snarl\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=381"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/archive.blogs.harvard.edu\/snarl\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/381\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/archive.blogs.harvard.edu\/snarl\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=381"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/archive.blogs.harvard.edu\/snarl\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=381"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/archive.blogs.harvard.edu\/snarl\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=381"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}