I’ve lived downtown for many years. I’ve seen a lot, and have experienced some interesting things.

About an hour ago, however, I experienced something new, something intense and a little scary. The adrenaline is still coursing through my veins as I type. When people who don’t live downtown make comments about why they don’t like downtown — this is the kind of thing that they’re talking about.

But I feel the need to emphasize that this wasn’t a downtown thing. This was a mental health thing — and it could have happened anywhere.

While my wife and I walked home from a lunch date, a woman shouted at us from the open window of a passing truck. There was no logic to this interaction, but it was powerful. Her aggression was stunning, almost comical in its intensity.

The truck turned at the next corner, along our path home. When we turned the same corner, we saw that she had jumped from the truck and was lying in the snow on the side of the road.

Concerned about her wellbeing at this point, we ran over to see what had happened. The truck was stopped and the driver was walking over. But before he reached the woman, she was on her feet. And in the span of seconds she was charging towards me while shouting an impressive vocabulary of profanities.

At this point, I no longer treated the situation as a human encounter — she was, in essence, a wild animal. This wasn’t a conscious decision, it happened in milliseconds. But something in me knew that running would encourage a chase. And I could see that the driver was close behind her, and I hoped he was attempting to hold her back, rather than joining her in whatever was to come.

She was physically bigger than me and had an absolute rage within her. But I leaned forward and braced for impact, hoping that the driver would stop her before she hit me.

He did. Just barely.

Our noses nearly touched before he pulled her back.

I saw more vibrance in the faded, bruised-coloured tattoo on her cheek than I did in her eyes.

The shouting continued as my wife called the police. Eventually, the driver was able to calm her down just enough to get her inside the vehicle — although the shouting and threats continued.

The police arrived soon after and we moved on. That was the end of it.

Rattled, we walked home and had a drink. And now, I’m writing this as I have another.

As I mentioned before, this is not a downtown problem. This isn’t the case of some random homeless person getting aggressive with a passerby — that rarely happens. Most homeless people are harmless.

It also wasn’t necessarily because of drugs. The behaviour of the woman certainly hinted that she might be on something, but the calm demeanour of her companion suggested otherwise. He reacted to the situation as if this wasn’t uncommon. Looking back, his words and actions hinted that he’d dealt with this many times before.

So wild situation aside, my biggest takeaway reinforced something that I’ve understood for years. Sometimes things get a little wild. Life is unpredictable. People are unpredictable. Even we as individuals are unpredictable — we don’t know how we will react to a given situation until that situation happens.

As the wave of adrenaline recedes, I’m trying to find a way to tie this all together. I want to find a conclusion that focuses on mental health while also dispelling the stigma of downtown life.

However, my reflection on this experience is much simpler. And while I will visit those other ideas in more detail eventually, there is only one word that can sum up my current worldview:

Unpredictable.