On being (almost) mugged

My mental image of New York is not exactly a sex-and-the-city consumer utopia, but for some reason random street crime has never entered the picture. Never again. For better or worse, my attitude towards Gotham has changed as the result of an incident last night. 

The time: 1:35 am. The place: Myrtle ave, 65th st. After a wonderful day of grooving to Yo La Tengo and dancing on stage with the cast of HAIR, I was tired and looking forward to sleep.

I was only one block from home. 

Footsteps behind me. A young black man, maybe about 20 with a big afro and a lanky frame, steps alongside me and asks if I had a dollar. I said I didn't have any, which was true (I spent my last single on a Mcdonalds cheeseburger). He asked me again "You sure you don't even have a dollar?" Again, I said "no", maybe a bit too brusquely. He was being a bit persistent, but other then that I assumed he was just another homeless guy asking for some change. 

"OK, then I'm going to make this quick. Give me everything you have in your pockets NOW". Literally as I was turning the corner on my block, I turned around and saw him with his shirt pulled up over his nose and reaching for something in his pocket. 

Think: what did I have in my pockets? My cellphone, my wallet, my keys. I wasn't going to give him this stuff. The mind operates pretty quickly under pressure, and I recalled someone saying in a safety class in middle-school, of all places, that if you are ever approached by a threatening person you should yell "HELP!" as loudly as possible. That's the only tool I had for getting this guy off me safely. 

I told the guy "I am on my block now man. You don't wanna do this. I'm gonna scream for help". "You really think people are gonna come down to hel-" "HEEEELLLPP SOME GUY IS TRYING TO MUG ME! HEEEELLLP" "You are alone mother-fuc- "HEEEEELLLLP!" As I turn around again I hear the guy slinking away back to Myrtle Avenue. 

At this point bravado overtakes me a little bit "You run motherfucker! That guy in the afro tried to Mug me!" as if my block was going to collectively run out and capture him. I heard him say "Suck my dick!" and then disappear behind a corner. 

This had all taken place over about 2 minutes. My body hadn't caught up with events - my heart was beating normally, my muscles were loose. It was only after I got back in my apartment that I started to shake somewhat uncontrollably.

This was my first encounter with honest-to-god street crime, and it easily could have ended badly. Nobody actually came out of the apartments to help me - what if the mugger had continued pressing me? I suppose I would have given him my wallet, and maybe bargained to keep some of the useless identity cards (fat chance). 

This event needs more digesting. Have any of you had experiences with street crime? If so, what happened, and how did it change your outlook?