Creepy Guys and Pepper Spray--From the Other Side

Today I was almost pepper-sprayed by some girl I don't know. Okay, here's what happened. Around seven o'clock, I was walking to my car from math class. It was already dark outside. Whenever I'm walking in the dark anywhere, I make sure people--especially women--know I'm there. It's not that I want to be creepy; in fact, it's the opposite reason. I don't want to seem like I'm hiding anything--which, by the way, I'm not. Maybe this is the wrong thing to do; I don't know. But it just seems to me that most women are scared of walking alone at night--as anyone should--because they're afraid of someone popping out of some shadows or running and grabbing them from behind. So what I normally do if I see someone walking ahead of me is to walk slower to maintain a buffer of comfort; I also scrape my shoes against the asphalt to alert them to my presence. Sometimes I cough really loud, or maybe if I'm anticipating seeing someone I start whistling. I pretty much do anything short of yelling, "Hey, I'm right here!" to let them know someone is nearby. Anyway, so I was walking through the parking lot--which is uphill--and I'm tired and hungry and want to go home, when, from out of nowhere, I see a girl to my right walking toward me at a perpendicular angle. There's only a few seconds between when I first see her and when she sees me. She looks up at me; I look back at her: complete eye-contact (was this wrong?). Suddenly, she pulls out her keys and holds them at shoulder-level as he continues walking past me--faster now. I notice she's holding something on her key chain--that's probably pepper spray, I think. It looked like a can of pepper spray. Without saying anything, we pass each other. She gets into her car as I get into mine, and in a few seconds, she's gone.

Immediately, I felt tremendous, pounding anger. Seriously. I felt so..victimized? I felt accused of murder or assault, when in fact I had done nothing wrong. Is it wrong to feel this way? I know she was only doing what needed to be done (I mean, c'mon: alone in a semi-dark parking lot with a weird bearded guy approaching you), but it still hurt my feelings to see that look of anger and defense and terror in that girl's face. I understand her motives; I understand that under different but very similar circumstances she could have been injured. I get it. But it still hurts. I know who and what I am, and I'm not that kind of person.

(Maybe I should buy a referee's whistle.)