Today, I had an adventure.
I would like to think if there was a chance for me to help someone, or do the right thing, or be heroic, I would do it. I never fooled myself into thinking this would be anything short of terrifying, as I am afraid of people and just about everything that involves bravery involves people. But I did like to think that being scared wouldn't stop me, because I'm always scared.
Today, I was at a pagan pride in a city park, which allows the non-pagan populace to walk among us and see that we're not that weird. Which is too bad, because most of us are a little fluffy and I'm a little punky. I'd gotten a great deal of "I love your outfit!" because I always do. I'm fancy. I'd also gotten a man twice my age asking me, in the second line of dialogue, if I was married, to which I responded that I didn't know how to answer that.
I had gone into the bathroom to take off my net shirt because I was overheating and needed it was under my dress. I was just coming out of the bathroom holding my sunhat in one hand and my net shirt in the other, when I see a man in a red shirt pelting through the pagan pride with a glass jar full of money in his hand. I hear a women screaming "thief!" and my sister shouting "Hey Rube!", which is a slang started in carnivals which basically means "That person running has stolen from one of the booths. Everyone stop him."
All I think is my little inner me looking at the other inner me and saying, "Prove it."
I immediately dropped my hat and my shirt and started tearing after the rube. I think there were about four of us chasing him, but I'm not sure because I was in front. According to the other people chasing him, I was always within two meters of him and sometimes closer. Which is weird, because normally I run like a girl.
Living in the country, I'm not sure how long a block is, but we passed two reasonably sized buildings before he dropped the jar, which shattered.
I step on one of the bills to keep it from flying away, because recovering the money is more important. And then I screamed "A hex upon thee!" which feels a little silly in retrospect, but it just came out. Then again, my sister apparently said something along the lines of "Your manhood will shrivel and fall!" and someone said "A plague on both your houses!". It's a known fact that if you quote Shakespeare at a criminal, they will immediately become scared and flee; because you are crazier than they are.
The other people stopped and we picked up the money and broken glass, disposed of the glass in a steetside trash can. One of the people who had started running was the woman who was watching the jar, and she explained that the money was a donation drive for a pagan-run charity. When we made it back to the Pagan Pride, a few of the locals who had just been enjoying the festival (we do have some good music at the prides in this area, I do love rocking to Featherscale) identified him as a local who had stolen from other charity bowls before, including from some nice church ladies. No respect for any religion. And that they were fairly sure where he holed up. The police were called, and in a few minutes we heard sirens.
Several people came over to me after this to give me updates on what had happened. The man, it seems, was caught. That might be karma or the hexes we screamed; but at was at least as much a good police department.
And according to several witnesses, most people really wanted to see what would happen if I caught him; which I explained would probably have been a tackle and some steel-toed kicking. The general consensus was that they would have liked to see a small woman in a minidress kicking a yobo.
I really hope that the other people who were chasing him were also told, not just the one who was dressed distinctively. Is that how superheroes happen? The community bands together and the memorable one gets the credit?
And so I had an adrenaline rush all day. It was lovely. Except for the suppressed appetite.
