Sounds Like You're A Slut

It was raining and windy and I had lots of important papers, and a camera, but no umbrella, with me. No cabs in sight, I called a car service. "5 to 10 minutes," they assured me. "He's just a few blocks away." After 20 minutes, I called to check the status. After 30 I called to cancel the car. I tried my luck again at the corner, and eventually I flagged a cab.

A few minutes into my ride, my phone rang. I didn't recognize the number, and I answered, unsuspecting of the wrath I'd hear when I did.

A man screamed at me in Arabic.

I know some male Arabic speakers, none of them have reason to scream at me, and the number didn't belong to any of them, anyway, so I hung up.

The screamer called back. I answered. This time he yelled, "I AM WAITING IN MY CAB." And then he continued with the screaming in Arabic. Mostly repetition of one word. He sort of howled it.

I hung up and the man driving the cab I was riding in told me that he'd heard all the yelling. I explained what I thought happened and he offered to tell me what the caller had yelled. It was so loud, he'd heard it all.

I called the car service and asked if they'd given my phone number to their driver. They had. Before or after my cancellation? Not clear.

They'd taken it from caller i.d. when I called initially. Just like I took the screaming driver's number from my caller i.d. when he called to scream at me two more times in the next few minutes.

(Q: Why did you answer your phone every time, Jen Snow? A: Because my name and my work number are on my outgoing voicemail message and I didn't think it wise to let him have that info too.)

The last time he called, I just said the word for "police," in Arabic. It sounded a little like the word he'd been screaming at me.