Category Archives: Clubbing

C is for the Creepiest Creeper Experience Ever

So, I talk a lot about creepers and getting creeped on. But most of the time, it’s in, shall we say,.. a controlled environment, such as a club. Yes, creeping is involved, but my personal safety has not been breached, if ya know what I mean.

I thought that moving to a nicer neighborhood in Chicago would cut down on how many mildly creepy experiences I would have, and for the most part, it has. However, a few weeks ago I had a truly terrifying experience that goes above and beyond creepy.

Here’s the set-up: A bunch of my girlfriends and I dressed up and did the barhopping thing until about 2 a.m. Any creeping that happened during barhopping is irrelevant as its level of creep no longer registers on my meter.

My friends were staying at one of the girl’s apartment, which is on the way to my apartment. So, suddenly the group decreased from four girls to one (that would be me). However, I live just a few streets away, and have made the lonely trek several times already, so I blithely continued on my way.

I was almost to my house, and had my keys in hand, when I looked up and saw a guy walking in my direction on the opposite side of the street, pretty much parallel to me. My brain registered that he was there, and that it was a bit odd to see a guy out by himself on my street (which is quiet and residential) at about 2 in the morning, but I wasn’t actually scared.

I proceeded the last couple steps to my apartment, up onto my front porch, fitted the key into the entry door, and stepped inside.

There are times when I just kind of bat the door shut behind me and don’t check to see if it’s actually closed all the way. But that night, something made me give the door an extra little push so that I could hear it click shut.

I then jangled through my key chain to find the key for the front door to my apartment, and as I was getting ready to unlock the deadbolt, I saw a movement out of the corner of my eye. There’s a big mirror in the entryway of the apartment building directly to the left of my front door, facing the entrance of the building. And in the reflection I saw the guy from outside, crouched down with his left hand trying to open the door, and with his right hand shielding the pane of glass next to the door so he could peer in at me.

Even though I knew the door was firmly closed & locked, this probably gave me the biggest jolt of my entire life. I was literally two feet away from some random guy who was trying to follow me into my house. I screamed something at him — go away, or leave me alone, can’t remember — and finally was able to unlock the door and run inside.

Well, that’s pretty much it. I was kind of a wreck for the next 20 minutes until I finally got up the courage to peek out my front window to see if he was still there (he wasn’t), and that was it. I just couldn’t stop thinking about how badly it could have turned out, if I had lingered just 20 seconds talking to my friends before heading to my apartment, or had stopped briefly to check my phone or text someone. It really was just a 20 second differential between me getting inside the apartment building and shutting the door behind me, and this rando literally trying to follow me in. Crazy.

After spending four years in Albany Park and routinely hearing of violence that occurred basically in my backyard, I don’t think I EVER expected my creepiest encounter to happen in my current neighborhood. But it definitely makes the case for ALWAYS being alert.. and maybe some pepper spray wouldn’t hurt, either.


Moves Like Jagger (or Usher)

Something I’ve noticed from the multiple times I’ve ventured out into Chicago’s nightlife (Wrigleyville edition) is that no matter what club you’re in, or what day of the week it is, or the time of night, you will always see THAT GUY.

No, I’m not talking about That Obnoxious Douche-y Frat Guy who thinks that his bleached tips/grossly over-gelled hairdo, wildly flailing arms, overwhelming cologne, and vigorous grinding up on girls makes him God’s Gift. I’m not even talking about The Nerdy Guy who has finally mustered up the courage to don his favorite striped polo shirt and take his private bedroom dance moves public (but probably isn’t getting the desired results).

I’m talking about That Creepy Old Guy who may or may not be old enough to be your grandfather but is certainly old enough to be your father, evidenced by a comb over, paunch, and glasses whose thickness rival a telephone book. The guy who lurks in the corner, or stands at the edge of a group of 20-somethings, seemingly obvious to the myriad of “WTF is this guy doing here?!” looks.

So,this is where I’m supposed to talk about a horror-inducing Creeper experience, right?

Nope! Actually…. it was with much surprise that my recent JBC experience did NOT include any direct interactions with such “material,” and instead featured a rather pleasant encounter despite a somewhat inauspicious beginning.

Time: late Saturday night
Location: JBC (Wrigley)
Setting: Decently crowded dance floor

My friend and I had already been to a couple other Wrigleyville establishments before heading to JBC to case the joint and see what was going down. The DJ was faltering in his music selections, and we were on the verge of bouncing when a polo’d guy approached.

“You should really dance with my friend, he’s a fantastic, fantastic dancer,” he said to me.

I’m about 99% sure I reflexively rolled my eyes as I envisioned The Nerdy Guy just waiting to pop over, eager to put his nascent grinding skillz to the test. Instead, a tall, cute guy glances over and sees his friend talking to my friend and me and heads over, saying something along the lines of, whatever he’s saying about me, it’s not true. (I’m assuming my friend and I got Wingmanned, and we’re wondering if this was carefully orchestrated or actually happens organically?)

At any rate, the guy and I started chatting it up in the middle of the dance floor, much to his friend’s chagrin, who urged us to “just dance already!” several times. It turns out he and the other guy had gone to college together in another state, had randomly ended up running into each other at JBC that night, and apparently entered into some sort of wingman contract (the friend was chatting up my friend this whole time). Cute boy’s “fantastic” dance resume  includes being Usher’s dance instructor “back in the day,” even though I’m pretty sure we both knew he possessed rudimentary white male dancing skills, haha.

We did end up dancing a little, but mostly talking/yelling into each other’s ears, and I don’t think I ever quite recovered from the surprise of meeting/talking to someone at JBC who was taller than me (and while I was wearing 3-inch heels, no less), had a bachelor’s and was pursuing higher education (in a good field, to boot), was actually quite cute, did not obsessively try to grind up on me, was gainfully employed, and seemed like a nice guy.

Over all, pretty good night.