Amber is the youngest of us four.  She graduated from Bentley College last year and is currently between jobs.  This is selfishly a cool thing for me, because she’s available to lend a hand with the day-to-day errands that can fall to the wayside in the course of the work week.

Being the awesome sister that she is, Amber offered to pick me up from work on Monday.  She was already picking up her best bud Jessa a stop away from me on the Orange line, so I said I’d meet her at the NEMC stop.

Holy sketchiness, Batman.

I get off the train, post-workload in tote, and pull out my iPhone to giver Amber a call.  Just then, two guys come running down the center of Kneeland Street.  They are running from an undercover cop car which chases them down and cuts them off.  Whoa.  A scene ensues and I keep the calm and walk briskly toward the familiar glow of MacDonald’s golden arches.  Amber calls.  She’s on her way.  I’m thinking of running, but due to a bum knee after surgery, no can do.

 I stand in front of MacDonald’s and a white car starts beeping furiously at me.  I squint, thinking maybe Amber is driving a car other than her 1992 Red Minivan — and almost wave.

NOPE, not Amber.  Instead a SHADY man pulls up, flings open the passenger side door, and motions for me to ‘get in’ like I’m a young child pre- D.A.R.E training.  I shuffle into MacDonald’s at this point, wonder where Amber is…

She shows up with Jessa finally. Wow.  It’s been awhile since I felt unsafe on these streets of Boston. 

Maybe I should have taken the train afterall.