I was “mugged” yesterday.
I put it in quotes because I wasn’t hurt, nobody hit me, and they didn’t get anything from me, even though there were three of them. I didn’t do what you’re “supposed to do.”
Let’s take a step back for a moment.
When a white man or woman walks down the street and clutches their belongings to themselves if a black man walks by, that’s a fucking tragedy. When I walk down the streets of Oakland, I make eye contact with the people I see, and if I happen to be holding my iPhone, I don’t shove it in my pocket when I see someone whose face doesn’t look friendly. White, asian, black, hispanic, whatever…I’m a trusting guy, at least to some extent. Now, there are places I don’t like to brandish my iPhone, and there are times I’d prefer not to take it out of my pocket…I’m not entirely stupid.
Yesterday, I was walking through Chinatown, on my way back to the office, reading an article on my iPhone. All of the following happens in the span of one half-block. I saw a couple highschool-aged black kids jaywalking across the street toward me. One tall pudgy kid with a backpack, one shorter and skinnier with a burgeoning mustache, and one tall and skinny with huge baggy black/white/silver Raiders hoodie and hat. The latter two were behind me after they crossed the street, and the big pudgy kid looked like he just got ahead of them. He doubled back around me, I assumed to just go back and stay walkin’ with his buddies. I kept walking at my pace, and I kept my iPhone out, now half-reading, half paying attention to my surroundings.
The skinny shorter kid walked a little faster, and was soon walking on my left. I looked over and made eye contact, since he was closer than I’d expect. “How you doin’,” he said with a smile. I said “how you doin’?”
We had just stepped off the curb where the old asian lady usually collects cardboard boxes, just near the 880 overpass (it’s dark and secluded under the bridge, but we weren’t quite there yet). She was there, we had walked past her. There were one or two other asian people walking close by.
“Gimme everything you got.” And I was surrounded. The tall kid in the black hoodie had his hand in his baggy pocket, aiming it at me.
And I did exactly what you’re not supposed to do.
I said “Man, I got nothin’,” and I held onto my phone with a death-grip, and kept my other hand in my jacket pocket with my wallet. I didn’t utter another syllable. “I’ma shoot this nigga right here,” said the black-hoodie kid. I looked at his bulging pocket, and immediately turned my head to look at the asian lady across the street. She was still there, but I wasn’t sure if she saw what was going on. The other two people were still in the vicinity, but again, I don’t think they saw me.
I turned and started struggling through them to walk away. “I’ma shoot this nigga right here,” he said again, no louder than before, while his buddies were trying to grab my arms and get me under the overpass. I squirmed out of their grip, yanked my arms every which way to get free.
Maybe they knew they couldn’t do anything within view of other people. Maybe they were just fuckin’ around with the dorky-lookin’ white dude to see if he’d just hand over all his shit at the slightest threat. I don’t know. I got free quickly, I didn’t get shot, still had my phone in my hand, and it quickly went in my hip pocket as I walked back into Chinatown, looking as if nothing had just happened.
I turned a corner a few blocks in, and went another way back to work. Along the way, I saw a patrol car stopped at a traffic light, but he was in the middle lane of a high-traffic five-lane one-way street…not safe to walk out and flag him down. I made eye contact with the cop, but I decided against it, and he drove away when the light turned green. The only thing I could think as I walked back to work was this: I’m glad I’m not in Baltimore. My shit would be gone, and I’d probably be shot anyway.
On the one hand, I’m proud and surprised with myself for not just caving in and surrendering. I walked away with all my shit, and I didn’t get hurt. I didn’t challenge the dude to prove he had a gun. I didn’t say anything pithy to provoke them. Sure, it’s a bit strange to hear a guy say “dude, I got nothin’” while he’s holding a $500 phone…but it’s not anywhere near challenging, like “that’s a gun?” Anyway, I think I did the right thing by saying almost nothing. It’s probably what kept me from getting (at the very least) beat up.
And on the other hand, I’m a fucking idiot. I’ve got Liz and my family to think about. What if I’d gotten shot? What the fuck was I thinking? Liz, Buddy, Kathy, Gary et al: I’m sorry. Next time, I hand over my shit.
