Guy with knife

My wife and I were walking down Washington Avenue just a few minutes ago. Three guys in black sweatshirts with hoods pulled up were walking about forty feet in front of us. We thought we heard a bottle smash but didn't see any glass (but that should have been a greater warning bell). We turned onto Sterling (the street we live on) and the guys were right there in front of us. They were weaving and had bottles in their hands so I assumed they were drunk. They were pretty short, so I also assumed they were teenagers. One of them turned to look at us. I looked back at him and didn't like the look he was giving us, so quickly looked away and got out my keys. I thought we could just hang back a bit and let them move on, then enter our building. They slowed down and moved towards our steps (my thought at the time was they wanted us to pass them). It seemed like we couldn't avoid them, so I said excuse us as I approached our door. They parted for me, but what I did not see was that they did not part for my wife. As I was about to put my key in the door, I heard my wife say, "What do you want?" One of the guys said sarcastically, "What do I want?" I turned and saw that the guy had pulled a knife (four inch blade with an ivory handle -- crazy what you remember) and was walking towards her. I saw my wife standing there with her hands up. I must have said something like, "Woah," because he turned and started walking up the steps towards me. I remember having a weird thoughts, like: "I wonder what it feels like to get stabbed. He's shorter than me, so maybe I can protect myself, but I think this guy will stab me at least once..." (Well, its tough to say, but I do often have that kind of banter in my head in scary situations). At any rate, he was about two feet from me when one of his friends, who had been saying things like, "C'mon, man, don't be stupid," got a hand on him and started tugging him away. Then another guy jumped into the picture -- taller than the other three, in a lighter colored sweatshirt, perhaps a little older -- and helped the other guy drag this guy away. The guy with the knife had a little more fight in him, though, and said to me, "You got some money for me? How about a wallet?" But by this time I knew this guy did not really want money. I opened the building door reached for my wife, who ran in. The taller guy yelled an apology and my wife yelled something like, "thank you." I was not feeling as generous. I called the cops (after some deliberating, but I thought: even if this is just a drunk kid, you just don't pull a knife. Ever.) The cops came and I told them my story and they said it was a drunk punk who did not fit any kind of criminal profile. I agreed, and, to be honest, was just happy to have them hear my story. The two cops were polite and professional (tough guy rookie, older cop with moustache who did most of the talking). It was not the kind of situation where I wanted to press charges or anything -- I just wanted the cops to know that this had happenned on this block so they could keep an eye out tonight. And, for whatever it is worth, that is exactly what they said they would do. What was more interesting, actually, was that the profile they are most concerned about right now are "the well dressed, nicer guys who ask you for the time or for directions and get inside your gate -- that is the guy to look out for right now in your neighborhood." So look out for the well dressed muggers, my nieghborhood friends. And in the meantime, thank you for reading this -- writing this has helped me get over the anger I was feeling at some punk threatening my wife and getting in my face, mixed equally with the fear of the threat turning into real violence. And if this all sounds melodramatic, blame the adrenulin. I know this happens all the time to folks in the city and in our neighborhood... But I guess my bottom line is: getting a knife pulled on you and your wife really sucks. I am grateful that is was just a punk trying to get (and got) a reaction.