The evening was gaining that chill familiar to October nights in Michigan, and I decided that maybe presidential candidate Ron Paul's speech on the Diag wasn't worth waiting for without a sweatshirt. My housemate and I left the growing crowd and headed home. It was only about 7:15 p.m. and not quite dark, so I was much more lax in my vigilance of our surroundings than I would typically have been while walking alone. My friend and I talked carelessly about politicians and YouTube.

As we made our way down East Jefferson Street, I noticed that my friend had stopped talking and was looking over her shoulder. Glancing around to see what had caught her attention, I saw a man who I could only describe as bigger, stronger and tattooed walking up behind us - fast. I thought that he was just trying to pass us, so I turned around again and noticed uneasily that the street was empty. At that moment, a group of four boys rounded the corner. As they walked toward us, I suddenly realized that the man was gone.

My housemate told me later that the man had been walking in the opposite direction but had turned around after we passed him, pursuing us in such a way that made it clear that I was wrong; he wasn't trying to pass us. In those few seconds, she had calculated all the ways that she, at 5-foot-2, could have taken him down. Without pepper spray or self-defense knowledge at our disposal, though, there weren't many options.

Ironically, this D.C.-born and Atlanta-bred girl discovered her own vulnerability on the streets of Ann Arbor.

Since this incident two weeks ago, I have become increasingly aware of a common problem in areas dominated by student housing: poor lighting. It's not a new problem by any means, but the fact that it's been left largely unaddressed makes it worth bringing up again. A little research into the safety of the area reminded me that the robbery at gunpoint of three University students last February happened on the same street - in fact, the same block - down which my friend and I were followed. That stretch of East Jefferson has only two streetlights, which aren't always lit.

In the winter of this year, a group of concerned students founded Make Ann Arbor Bright, an organization that petitioned the Ann Arbor City Council for better lighting in student neighborhoods after interviewing mugging victims. The victims agreed that improved lighting could have prevented the crimes. However, Make Ann Arbor Bright faced the skepticism of council members who countered that they weren't sure more lighting would deter crime and noted that it would raise energy costs and increase light pollution. They put the streetlight additions on hold due to financial restraints.

Enter the energy-efficient, non-polluting, cost-effective alternative. The Associated Press reported Friday that Ann Arbor will be one of the first cities in the country to use LED technology in about 1,400 of its streetlights. The LEDs use less than half the energy of our current lights, helping the city live up to its eco-friendly reputation. They could also save the city $100,000 a year.

With Ann Arbor at the forefront of this revolutionary idea, the city is setting a precedent for the rest of the country. The use of LED technology can only improve cities, and Ann Arbor's investment in it proves that this city cares about its community, within city limits and beyond. Since LED lighting addresses the issues of energy costs, light pollution and scarce funding, the city council is down to its last flimsy excuse not to respond to students' call for better lighting: It isn't sure that it will fix the crime problem.

True, my close call proves that street lighting isn't enough to solve crime in Ann Arbor. Vigilance, common sense and pepper spray are arguably some of the most effective crime prevention tools with which students can arm themselves. However, as a 20-year-old woman who walks home after dark, I really don't care whether statistics have proven that streetlights deter crime: I know they promote safety.

I shouldn't have to hope that people left their porch lights on so that I can avoid tripping over recycle bins. Neither should I have to stick to the roads so that I have a head start if someone emerges from the darkened bushes. And if someone's going to attack me, I want enough light to be able to aim my pepper spray.

Emmarie Huetteman is an associate editorial page editor. She can be reached at huetteme@umich.edu.