Twenty-one inches of snow fell upon Pittsburgh, Penn., between Feb. 5 and 6, 2010. Snowmageddon
was the name given to the city’s fourth largest blizzard in history.
During Snowmageddon, I was living in a Pittsburgh neighborhood called Friendship.
After the snow settled, I ventured outside with a point-and-shoot camera around 1 p.m.
I trudged through the snow and snapped photos for about 20 minutes.
I was almost home when I saw him.
A man suddenly appeared, walking too quickly, fiercely toward me.
The snow was so deep that a narrow, maybe six-inch-inch-wide path existed atop the buried sidewalk. Despite the obvious room for only one of us, he did not slow or move aside to allow ladies first. I thought he was going to plow me into a snow drift.
Before I could get out of his way, he hurried into me and shoved a 9 mm handgun into my stomach.
“Give me your purse!” he demanded.
I looked at my shoulder, then at him and threw up my hands, giving him a look, thinking, but not saying out loud..
“Does it look like I have a purse!?”
Then I handed him my camera.
At that, he laughed, smiling a big, nasty grin, and said...
He didn’t take the camera but began running. Across the street I saw his accomplice, whom I hadn’t noticed before, running parallel to him and laughing, too.
Their quick movement frightened me. I ran in the opposite direction, barreling through the snow, for my house.
Scared to look back and praying he wouldn’t shoot, I threw myself down the long driveway, up the steps, through the door and into the kitchen, to find my roommate. She helped me dial 911.