Walter lived in West Philly. One day, he was walking down Baltimore Ave when a guy walks up to him, sticks a gun in his face, and demands Walter's money.
It's the middle of the day. There's people all over the streets. "Hey!" Walter yells. "I'm being mugged. Somebody help me!"
People look, then turn and walk away from him. "Sorry, dude," says one guy. "He's got a gun. Whaddaya want?"
The guy demands Walter's wallet. Walter produces said wallet, but all that's in it is his driver's license.
"You don't have any money?" the guy asks.
"Oh yeah. Hold on." Walter reaches into his pocket. He pulls out some wadded up $1 bills. He pulls some more out of another pocket. He has a lot of pockets in his trench coat; each of them has wadded up $1 bills. He pulls some out of his socks, tucked into his shoes. He always carried only $1 bills, wadded up in little balls, and when I asked him why, he said, "Well, what if I get mugged?" Soon enough, he has fifty some dollars, all in wadded up little balls. He holds them out to the mugger.
"What the fuck is this?"
"It's my money." Walter steps forward and dumps it in the guy's arms.
"Fuck you," says the guy, throwing the money to the ground. He stomps off.
Walter picks up all his money and puts it back in the various pockets and socks and such, comes in to work and tells us the story of his mugging. After work, we went to the bar, and he bought the first round with the money the mugger had declined.
Hurrah! Boys, Hurrah!