On my way home last night- rather late and, indeed, somewhat tired and emotional- I got off the night bus at Harrow-on-the-Hill bus station and walked towards my house, past the Job Centre.
This is what I usually do. This time, unusually, there were three young men waiting for me. They stepped out from some shadows. I stopped walking, and they stood about two metres away from me. They were about fifteen years old and not at all heavily built, white, with short hair. One of them- the one I remember, was wearing a black nylon- that kind of shiny nylon- jacket with the number ’38′ above the breast pocket.
It was from this jacket pocket that he produced the world’s smallest knife.
“Gimme your bag now!”
I stood there for a minute, sizing up the situation, and said “Can’t you find someone else to threaten?”
I just stood there for a minute or so. While I was definitely bigger and probably stronger than any of them individually, I don’t really fancy my chances with all three at once, and after all, it may have been a tiny knife but it could still pierce vitals.
In these situations, ran the advice my self defence trainer gave me, it is important to stay calm, authoritative, and give the impression that you are in charge of the situation and not at all intimidated. I was, to be sure, several sheets to the wind, and I was pretty sure they had to know that. I wouldn’t really stand a chance in a fight. So by projecting the impression that I was desperately uninterested in fighting them had to be my best option.
Also, delaying things so that their flush of adrenaline-courage could dissipate and the shakes set in had to be a good idea.
After I’d stood there for a clear minute, relaxed, hands at my sides, staring at Lead Kiddie, he panicked and legged it for the bus station. His mates followed.
So I was only sort-of mugged.
Blimey. Little shitbags. Hope you reported them. At least mention to the police they are doing it so they can keep an eye out or put up a sign….
I did, yeah, this morning. “Sorry, Madam, but there’s not a lot we can do about that.”
That’s sort of like what happened to my friend Lucas when he was in Phoenix. Anyway, he went to the bank to deposit his paycheck and after he left he was walking home and these two Latino gentlemen stop him on the sidewalk and demand his wallet. One of them produces a knife. So, Lucas promptly punches the poor fellow in the head and he goes down. His friend takes off running while Lucas gives his injured buddy a few good kicks to the kidney before shrugging and continuing on home.
Eeek! Jasmine!
/me cuddles.
You seem to have handled it brilliantly though. I totally admire that. It does seem to happen to some people more, but when it does at least you deal well.
Pretty sure I wouldn’t; but have never been put to the test (so far…)
cooler than my ‘piss off and try to grow a pube somewhere else’ approach
Impressive! Does this kind of event happen often in your neighboorhood Jasmine ?
next time carry you armoured gloves, and your helmet.
When some folk tried that with me in France I simply welcomed the opportunity to pound some guys into the pavement.
They legged it when they realised I really really wanted to hurt them and was very strong and capable of doing so.
Daft Frenchmen.
You’re a violent racist loser.
I’m racist cause I wanted to assault some folk who were trying to mug me?
You’re weird.
No. Go back and read what you wrote.
I’ll try this again. Since when is “French” a race, and since when did capitulation work?
You yourself stared down your own muggers and would probably have gone toe to toe with them.
In essence, you were doing the same as I.
And your problem is…..
The French are a national identity, most certainly they are, and ‘racism’ does not have to focus on a particular skin colour.
Capitulation is neither here nor there. Violence is the problem. Well done on perpetuating it.
calling people fench isnt racist… i would not at all be offended if i was called white or british i would take it as acompliment. thats what the problem is with black people.