The third day following my arrival in the United States, I was introduced by one of my relatives to work at the front desk of a Chinese restaurant in Philadelphia.
On her off-day Sunday, I decided to go shop in the nearby Chinatown for some groceries. Because I didn’t own a car and Chinatown was relatively far, I had to take the bus to get there. The walk to the bus station was quite simple – just two turns and a path straight ahead that totaled up to 25 minutes. There weren't many pedestrians along this half-abandoned sidewalk, but other than that, the walk felt pretty normal.
I stopped midway in my track when a suspicious-looking man got out of the dark blue Ford.
“Excuse me, do you have any change?” he asked.
I glanced at him. He had on the typical graphic tee and a pair of ripped jeans type of mash-up. But something about him was off, I don’t quite know how to describe it, but his general appearance made me feel a little uncomfortable. It was the look in his eyes that betrayed him and whispered to me to go. I ignored him and briskly walked forward, clutching on to my purse this time. After a few steps, I realized he was following me. Before I knew it, I found myself starting to run. He saw my move and quickly caught up to me. With great force and speed, he tore my purse out of my hands, I lost balance. Instinctively trying to protect it, I yanked back, but the man was stronger. The next moment, he jumped into his car and quickly drove away, his accomplice speeding with him. Everything happened so fast. I was a little dazed, and I stood there feeling dumbfounded, frustrated, and helpless all at once. There was $40 in my purse -- my living expense for a month.
The eyes, now I understood the man’s eyes. They weren’t sincere nor helpless, rather, they were mad and greedy. There was a tint of fear in that audacity, but only if the fear was enlarged even the slightest bit or lengthened any longer, I would have had my chance.
I had just first-hand experienced a robbery during the daylight.
My eyes burned with helplessness as relentless waves of irritation crashed down on me. I could feel my heart begin to race. Then, another car pulled up. The driver seemed to have witnessed the robbery and rolled down the window.
"Stay where you are. I will chase that guy down," he called.
I stood there, moved, as a sliver of hope rose in my heart. Staring out into the distance, I watched the robbed car speeding through the red light. I began to worry about this kind-hearted person’s words, whether I would recover my bag and money, and the complications that would come with it. Would the two have an argument? Would there be an accident with the rate the robber was speeding… My thoughts were stopped at the return of the kind man.
"Very sorry, I couldn’t catch up with that car." But in his hand, he was holding my purse, "Check to see if everything is still in the bag."
Despite already knowing the answer to this question, anxiously, I opened my bag regardless. Sure enough, it was empty. As empty as my heart felt. I thanked the kind-hearted man who helped me retrieve my bag.
I was dazed, my heart full of mixed emotions, as I felt a tear slowly rolling down my cheek. I took a deep breath, and reluctantly walked back home.
This was the first thrilling thing I encountered in my first four months living in the United States. People say that the United States is a paradise—as long as you work hard, you can live happily. But even in such a seemingly utopian society, there are still many dark sides. Colleagues around me have had similar incidents of robbery, but these will not let us down. Instead, this incident inspired me to maintain a fighting spirit and work hard to buy a car as soon as possible to secure myself a safer life.
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