On a recent Saturday afternoon, I was sitting in a coffee shop working on my laptop, talking to friends and slugging green tea. The place was full, so I barely noticed this bearded, red-haired guy in a hoodie eyeing me.  I gathered up my stuff to leave, walked out in my usual oblivious way, and before I knew it, the guy was right over my shoulder, yanking my laptop bag out of my left hand and running down the sidewalk.

Without hesitation, I chased the guy, grabbing him by the shoulder and pulling him around to face me. We struggled for a minute over the computer bag, but he pulled it away from me and swung it over his head, as if to hit me with it. As soon as I pulled back, he started running again.

God damn. I just got mugged. There goes my laptop and all of my work. This asshole is gonna go sell it for a hundred bucks and buy some forties, Marlboros, Cheetos, and a little crack.

I didn't think I could catch him among all the traffic, but I ran anyway. Simultaneously, I grabbed my cell phone and dialed the police, yelling into the phone, all breathless and trying to get the words out in a coherent way. And I screamed, like a crazy woman, at all the cars going by, some of whose occupants HAD to see what had happened. People chose to keep going, and I didn't blame them for not getting involved. But then, I saw this little beat-up beige Toyota pull over. The door swung open to reveal a Hispanic family of four, Dad driving, Mom in the passenger seat, and a boy and girl in the backseat. The dad yelled, "GET IN! GET IN! We're gonna get him!"

In some shock, and in some disbelief at how fast everything was moving, I jumped in as the kids made room. The car squealed off, following the dude, who was still in sight, crossing the highway overpass just ahead. The two kids, wild-eyed and letting out little shrieks every few seconds, cheered their dad on as he employed some creative driving techniques, including taking a right down a one-way service road that only goes left. We could all still see Mugs lumbering, getting tired now and slowing down. Dad stopped the car, and we all jumped out to pursue the guy on foot.

I'm aware this is going to sound insane, if it doesn't already, but what happened next is true, and though I was confused and a little disoriented, I definitely saw it happen. As we were making our way to the spot between two buildings where Mugs was heading, this older black man calmly stepped out, seemingly from nowhere, and blocked his way. He spoke to Mugs for just a second, and gently took the bag out of his hand. When I made it over to where he was, this man ambled over, handed my laptop back to me, and said, "I think you need this more than he does." Then he got into a Ford Explorer and drove away, waving and smiling.

Now utterly perplexed, I turned back to where Mugs had been running just in time to see him get brought down by two "Downtown Improvement District" employees in yellow sweatshirts. In time, the cops arrived and poor Mugs was taken away to the police station--but not without asking me first if I would just let him go ("come on, I haven't taken my medication today" was his line of reasoning). I too had to spend some time at the station, giving a statement and joking around with a couple of overfriendly detectives. They reacted with minimal interest when someone was shot in another part of the city, grunting and chuckling.

Sent home, laptop back in my possession, I sat in stunned solitude for the rest of the day, feeling awful about my city and about the number of times I've had some joker steal something from me. Thankfully, though, there were helpful, friendly, really sweet people involved this time, who came to my aid when I thought I'd have to go it alone. I don't know what made them help me, and I don't know what made them treat me with such care. After it was all over, the driving dad consoled me like I was his own daughter, looking straight into my eyes and telling me everything would be okay; the mom smiled and hugged me; the kids rooted for me; the older man was so gentle and calm.

You can't hate people. You have to move on, taking solace in the good and standing up to the bad when it comes along. It seems there is more good than bad, and any time I question that, good comes out of the woodwork and proves it.