I was assaulted by a man this morning at an ATM machine on the corner of Bush and Kearny in San Francsico.
I walked to an ATM this morning to withdraw $20. I found an ATM not far from my hotel, an ATM built into the side of a building. The street was busy. I didn't think much about where I was or that it could be dangerous in any way. I insert ed my card into the ATM machine and worked my through the transaction. The money tried to come out of the machine, but it got stuck. The machine went "out of order."
I called the number on the front of the machine and told the folks who answered what happened. I had to give them the last four digits of my card number, and the technician was able to recount the steps I took to retrieve my cash. He said there was nothing he could do, that I needed to contact my bank and request the money be returned to me (or I could dispute the transaction and I wouldn't be charged for it). Whatever. It was $20, and I'd deal with it later.
About this time, a man came up behind me and started talking. He wanted to know what I was doing and who I was talking to. He spoke with an accent (Slavic, Russian, something). I told him my business was none of his business and to go away. I was still talking to the ATM technician on the phone. The man moved forward and wanted to know what I was doing. I told him to fuck off.
At that moment, the ATM technician asked me to open the cash dispenser to see if the money was stuck or if there was something there that would have caused the machine to malfunction. I opened the dispenser and noted that a tissue had been pushed up into the machine and behind that tissue was my $20. I told the technician what I saw. I pulled the tissue away and pulled out my $20.
The man behind me grabbed my arm and started screaming at me to give his money back. I dropped my phone and disconnected the technician.
The man punched me in the shoulders and the chest, screaming at me to return his money. I yelled back and fought him, kicked him, and screamed for help. A dozen or so men were across the street watching the assault occur. No one crossed the street to help. But one of them--God bless him--called the police.
The man who was hitting me pushed me into an alcove and blocked my way so I couldn't leave. He called me a bitch, a whore, a thief, a (*c*); every derogatory name he could think of, he used. He kept pushing me and threatening to punch me in the face with his fist.
The police arrived very quickly. They took his story and my story. They spoke to the man who witnessed it all (the one who called the police). I was shaking so hard I couldn't really talk much. I don't know that I made much sense for a while. But I had my ATM card, other ID, receipts from the machine, the tissue that I pulled from the machine was still on the ground near my phone, the phone number of the ATM maintenance company was in the phone's call log, and the wadded up $20 bill in my hand.
It took about 20 minutes of taking and checking my documents and ID and talking to witnesses, but the police believed that I had just been using the ATM and that I had not taken anything from the man who assaulted me. I'm not sure what they checked about the man. I was in the alcove and couldn't see. However, the police told me I was free to go. They were very kind and polite. They could not arrest the man, though, because I would be unable to come back to San Francisco for court appearances . . . lucky for him, I guess, that I live out of state. But the man kept arguing with them and trying to move back toward me. They arrested him anyway.
I am back at my hotel waiting on the shuttle to take me to the airport. I don't much feel like going outside and walking around. Now that I'm safe, sitting here in this room, and now that I've stopped shaking, I'm starting to feel his punches and shoves. My back and shoulders hurt. I think I'll take a shower. I wish I had gotten the identity of the man who called the police. I wonder if it's inappropriate to raid the minibar at 9:30 in the morning for alcohol.
