A few years back, I'm walking with my wife; Sunday afternoon, broad daylight, Fifth Avenue and 50th Street, right in front of St Patrick's Cathedral in midtown Manhattan. We notice a few ruffians (hoodlums) in front of us, about 20 feet, kind of surrounding an elderly woman who has her handbag on her shoulder. One of the punks is in the process of removing her wallet after unzipping the bag. The woman has absolutely no idea what is taking place.
Well, I couldn't allow it to happen. As it is occuring, I begin to walk quickly to close the gap, the whole time my wife and I holding hands as we always do.
Just as he's slowly pulling the wallet up from inside the bag, I'm on him, only he doesn't know it.
Well, know it he did, as I planted my palm-heel strike square in his back. It sent him sprawling on his face across the sidewalk, while the rest of his cohorts took off running. In a second or two he peeled his face off the sidewalk and limped-ran away as well.
The woman was startled but still unaware of what occured. I said to her: Ma'am, I just saved your wallet. (Perhaps a poor choice of words, but it's what came to me.) She was so shocked that she couldn't utter a word.
As God is my judge (and I know religion is not allowed here) the above is entirely true.