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2004-11-22 - 10:00 a.m.

When I lived in San Francisco (1993-4), I used to go to the Civic Center farmers� market a lot. It was just a few blocks from my house and I could get a whole lot of food for cheap. I was particularly a fan of the oyster seller. Apparently, big oysters are generally sold to restaurants, which want to impress customers with what a big oyster they�re being served. Small oysters are sold to bars and stuff, which can impress customers who aren�t going to scrutinize the size, as long as it�s an oyster (�Cool, I got 6 free oysters at happy hour!�). Medium oysters were a little harder to move. I�d buy a ton for cheap and roast Oysters Rockefeller at home. An affordable luxury.

The other reason I liked the farmers� market was that it was kind of sensory overload. There were all ethnicities of patrons, chattering in different languages. The fruits and veggies were an explosion of colors. Vendors would cut off pieces of fruit for you to taste. Everything smelled good (well actually, since it was in a public park, there was usually a puddle of urine at the edge where homeless people hung out). The poultry truck stuffed squawking live geese in canvas bags for old Chinese women. It was like the opposite of virtual reality. It was like� reality.

Anyway, one day I was walking out when some guy came tearing around the corner behind me and ran past me. Another guy appeared chasing after him, shouting �Stop that guy! Thief!�

Hmm. I ran after the first guy who only had a short lead on me. He was presumably winded already and I caught up quickly. I knocked him against the wall of buildings to our left and grabbed the leather jacket he had slung over his shoulder. �Let it go!� He tugged back briefly before letting go and ran off, snarling �Fine!�

All this happened in only a few seconds. Proud of myself, I turned around and held out the jacket for the approaching muggee. He looked at it quizzically as he ran past. �No, no, he�s got my wallet!�

Oh dear. Well, what was this jacket? Then I realized: I had just mugged a mugger. What did that make me?

I hung the jacket on a parking meter and slunk home sheepishly.

� 2004 Geoff Gladstone

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