New York City dipshit mugger

There we were, my best friend and I walking along Amsterdam Avenue near 81st Street in New York City at 4 o'clock in the afternoon. I'm not sure if this area is a bad area but from my experience, I can say it is.

We were walking along, minding our own business when a young black guy wearing a bright red ski cap comes running towards me. The son of a bitch is holding a walking cane in his hands. I move left and keep moving left. He moves with me.

I think, "Oh Shit!"

He tackles me like a football player. I feel the cane across my front and his hands on the back of my shoulders. As we are falling to the ground, I feel more bewildered than scared.

"Kick and swing! Kick and swing!" is going through my head. We hit the ground. I'm on my back and he's on top of me. Somewhere in all this mess, he lost the cane because I heard it hit the pavement to the left of me. The asswipe gets to his feet and straddles me. That's when I see a chance to give him two quick flatfooted kicks. I got him in either his groin or lower abdomen. He was wearing those baggy pants young guys wear nowadays so I really couldn't tell where I got him but my foot did hit flesh both times. Luckily I was wearing thick-soled Skechers. I must have made an "impression" because after I kicked him, he backs up.

I yell, "What do you think you're doing?"

He holds his hands up and says, "Sorry."

I'm not sure if it was me or maybe a combination of me, my best friend and the worker at the Asian restaurant who run out to the street when he saw it happen that makes the son of a bitch back up. Stupidly, and reacting more out of anger than anything else, I grab the cane and throw it at him, yelling "Get out of here!"

He picks up the cane and says sorry again. We watch him turn around and speed walk down the street. It all happened so fast, the whole scene was just a matter of seconds.

The restaurant worker asks if I'm okay and if anything was stolen. Nothing was, the only thing of worth I had with me was a camera bag that was strapped across my body.

The worker calls 911 and I talk to the police, tell them what happened, and they say they are going to look for the guy. That's it.

I don't know any more than that. Ironically, my best friend was a lot more upset about this incident than I was. I was more upset that my hair and clothes touched the sidewalk. I took a bath back at the hotel and then we went to see "The Producers." We had second row orchestra seats and I really didn't want to miss the show because of that. Except for this incident, it was a pretty good trip to NYC.

Some days later, a coworker said he heard I beat up an invalid on the streets of New York and threw his cane in the street and made him go get it. How that one got started I don't know.

(words: M. Martinez, Louisiana; picture: S. Wing, Florida)

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