one morning in beijing, i detoured down a busy alleyway full of shops on my way to the forbidden city. feeling a tug on my man-purse, i looked down to see a retreating hand. in retrospect, the most reasonable and safe thing to have done was to continue walking after realizing nothing was stolen. but i have a napoleon complex and feel the need to prove it. i aggressively shouted at the pickpocket in a host of english swear words that i'm sure he didn't understand. i should have known these people never work alone. out of the crowd, a thick chinaman leapt at me, followed by his lanky buddy (kind of a laurel and hardy combo but chinese).

so i'm fist fighting 3 people in a public alleyway, the idle curious gawking and doing nothing, while my long flowing hair tossed this way and that. eventually, they backed off and in my rage, i urged them to "come on!" that's when the stubby buy pulled out a 3 inch knife gesturing at me in a stabbing motion (as if i didn't know what he was about to use the knife for). curse my useless brain. it kept repeating, "do you like the taste of steel, slimeball?" a quote recently heard from Ali G. that's what watching way too much television does to you. i came to my senses and slowly backed away but by the time the police arrived, the scoundrels were long gone and my underwear soiled beyond repair.

and to add insult to injury, i nearly had my backpack full of important documents and money robbed by a scam artist at the beijing train station xray machine (apparently a common scam). this time, i didn't yell, but instead soiled myself in silence.