Drunk

I had been living in Prague for about a year. I taught 3rd grade at a bilingual school during the day and work door security for a tourist bar at night. Weekends I would get off work around 3 or 4 depending how busy it was. At which point I would take the tram from the city center to JzP where my apartment was located.

At the time I was 22 years old, and had short black hair and round glasses. This is important.

One night, I stood at the back of the tram headphones in despite my phone being dead. They were like a security blanket to prevent me from socializing with drunk English-speakers that populated city center that time of night. This group of seven guys looking to be between 25 and 30 get on being loud and drunk. I'm okay with accents, and these guys were definitely British, probably there for a stag-do. I ignore them until I hear this conversation:

"I'd fuck that Harry Potter lookin girl."

"Like she'd fuck you, mate."

"Like I'd give her a choice"

*raucous laughter and high-fiving over this little rape joke*

"How can you even tell that's a girl?"

"One way to find out isn't there?"

*more laughter*

I keep staring at my kindle and acting like I couldn't hear them/didn't speak English, but internally I was screaming in panic. My stop was only two away and I figured I'd want to be as close to my flat as possible when I got off. So I sit there ignoring the leering until the tram gets to my stop.

I get off. I've got three blocks up and half a block over to get to my flat. They get off. <that's fine, I live two blocks away from a very popular club and quite a few bars and hotels are in that area> I rationalize to myself <they're not following me.> I had a test. A stupid thing I did to see if people walking behind me were following me, and I crossed at a weird place in the street. They crossed. I pick up my pace to be walking fast but not running. Their pace picks up and laughter emanates from the group behind me. I refuse to look back. I make the three blocks with them steadily closing the gap to me. I turn left, and bolt.

Running as fast as I can, keychain with rock in my palm and building key between my thumb and pointer knuckle. I slam the door, and even though it locks automatically and doesn't have a turntable handle I throw the dead bolt and continue running to my flat, where I also turn the dead bolt. I get to my room, which faces the street and I curl up in the corner shaking as through my open window I can here "where'd that bitch go?" along with other things I'm not going to post. After about 15 minutes I hear them go away.

So yeah, you group of British boys (I won't even call you men), let's not meet