"We Just Need Money For Dinner"
One of the two kids says to me as I approach them. Having lived here too long perhaps, I ignore them and continue walking. As I do, I get a glimpse of them. Sweatshirts with hoods pulled all the way down. Shirts pulled up to their noses. One of the kids is pretty small. The talker is not.
They're behind me now. The talker says, "I'm sorry." Flight response kicks in. I take three steps. Brain kicks in. I stop. I tell them my wallet is in my back pocket, but the talker keeps apologizing. The talker reaches around me - pinning my arms to my side. I go limp as he throws me to the sidewalk behind us - my arm bent back underneath my body as I hit the ground.
Surprisingly calm, I look up. The talker now looms above me - apologizing and repeating that they just want money for dinner. "Relax," I respond, "let me get my cash out." I reach into my pocket and pull out my wallet, opening it up for the talker. He's still jumpy - his eyes darting between me and the small kid behind me. He takes the cash but nothing else. He apologizes again and then gives back $20 before he runs with the small kid in the other direction.
A bit stunned and with an arm beginning to throb, I dust myself off and proceed to the restaurant where I had been heading for dinner. Three and a half hours later, I emerge from the ER having been told that I only had a muscle strain. Some ice, a heat pad, and three advils every four hours, and I'll be fine. I was quite lucky in light of my initial reaction - it could have been a lot worse.
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