12:38pm: I am in SOHO on a run for work, picking up groceries for a client meeting. I am looking at my phone when I hear, "Hey mama," coming from a car. I am on a busy street, so I glance at my phone and assume the bodiless voice isn't talking to me until I hear, "Who you texting?" I stop walking and look up in the direction of the voice. I see a man sitting in his car and stare at him. I snap a photo and think I detect fear in his eyes. For a moment I doubt that he is the man who spoke to me, but the voice matches when he demands, "What?"
"Were you just speaking to me?" I ask.
"I don't know you," he replies, defensively.
"I know that. Which is why it was odd that you were talking to me."
I continue walking.
12:54pm: I am heading back to the office after the errand and am almost there when a construction worker barks, "Smile," at me.
"Don't tell me what to do," I counter.
"I'm being nice," he tries, seemingly baffled that I wasn't flattered by his demand.
"No, you're not. Women don't like to be told what to do on the street by strangers. It's rude." I explain.
I take his picture, too.
"Okay," he hesitates, "it won't happen again."
I give him a curt nod as I walk away.
