A few weekends ago, I traveled by train to visit one of my daughters for my grandson's birthday party.
My return trip was delayed six hours, and I ended up arriving at a mostly empty train station well after dark.
The mostly empty didn't include the several shabbily dressed people loitering around the station.
Although most of these individuals appeared to only be interested in using the shelter of the roofs and the empty benches as a place to sleep for the night, at least one of them had a more threatening demeanor.
I had parked my vehicle in a parking garage on the opposite side of the train station tracks, and would have to use the crossover bridge to get to the other side, and then walk a several block distance to exit the station and backtrack to the entrance to the garage.
This was a fairly simple process during daylight hours, but after 10 pm on a Sunday night it became a whole different affair.
As I approached the cross over, carrying a backpack, a laptop bag, and my crossbody purse, I saw a very questionable individual standing right at the entrance.
His body position was partially blocking the entrance to the stairway, but he was also within reaching distance of the elevator.
As I approached he was watching me closely, and when I got nearer he reached over to press the elevator button.
When I was within about five feet, a different man, another passenger from the same train, came from behind and pushed past the lurker and headed up the stairway.
The elevator door dinged open, I waited until the man who had pressed the button got inside and the doors were starting to close, and then I hurried up the stairs.
I passed a group of three young women heading down the stairs, and that gave me a sense of relief that there would be people within hearing distance if necessary.
I reached the top of the stairs ahead of the elevator and saw the fellow passenger halfway across the walkway moving towards the other side.
I quickly called out to him, "Hey! Could you wait for me to walk with you? I feel uncomfortable right now."
He passed and turned towards me just as the elevator opened and the other man walked out and started moving towards us.
Meanwhile, I had been walking as quickly as possible and the fellow passenger waited for me to catch up to him.
As he saw the man from the elevator walking towards us, he told me he understood why I was concerned.
The elevator at the other side was already at the top, and we got inside. My walking buddy quickly pushed the button for the ground floor and I began pushing the button to close the doors.
The other guy continued to head towards us, so I lifted my phone and stated loudly, "I don't feel safe!"
At that point, the lurker turned around and headed back to the side of the station that he was originally on when I first saw him.
The rest of my walk was reasonably uneventful, and I arrived at my vehicle without any further issues.
But this entire episode brought home to me why I carry.
A female at night carrying multiple items in a relatively isolated area is not always safe.
Sometimes happenstance places us in situations where we may not have any options.
If there hadn't been someone else going in the same direction as me, I'm not sure what might have happened.
But I am not here to play armchair quarterback and nerd bingo (what if....).
Due to train regulations, I was not allowed to carry, even though I was traveling solely within a state in which I am legally permitted to do so.
I could have placed the gun in checked luggage, however that would have meant even more of a problem.
There was no secure location at the end station to unlock the case, reload the magazines, and then place the gun in a concealed location.
But that is beside the point, and I'd like to get back to the original premise.
We live in uncertain times and law enforcement isn't always close by to help.
I carry so that I can protect myself, and my loved ones, when other resources aren't available, or will not arrive in time.
What happened at the end of my train ride is just confirmation that my decision is right for me.
