I got mugged last week. I live in New York, land of muggings, so I know it happens all the time. Friends tell me their own stories and use phrases like “the gun” and “knifepoint.” That didn’t happen to me. I was drunk and alone and surrounded by a group of six or seven guys who pinned me down, stole my iPhone, and ran. It was terrifying. If there was a gun, I probably would have peed my pants, quit my job, and moved to Wisconsin, a state I imagine to be cushioned with soft pillows of cheese.
But knowing that muggings happen to everyone isn’t as comforting as, say, all your college girlfriends getting abnormal pap smears, or all your work colleagues getting their email hacked by prescription drug spammers. The situation is still absolutely, heart-stoppingly frightening. I wish I had followed these idiotically obvious steps to get through it.