Joel was lightly play punching me as we rounded a corner and witnessed a man being held up at knifepoint. The play punch froze on what an observer may have called an affectionate bump as Joel and I scrambled back round the corner, out of sight.

“Wherearewegoingtodo?” Joel blurted in such a hurried fashion that it presented as one word.

“Chill, dude, chill,” I calmed him. “He didn’t see us. We’ll be OK.”

“What about the guy? Do we go save him?”

“Save him? What do you think we are, super heroes?” I peeked my head around the corner to ensure we weren’t squabbling over a moot point. The guy was still being held up. Argument still valid.

“But there’s three of us against one guy! With numbers alone…”

“That’s three times as many targets,” I barked with my super serious face on. “I’m not going to risk my life for that guy’s wallet. My life is worth more than the $20 he probably has in it.”

“It’s not about that, man,” Joel pleaded. “You’re going to stand by while another human being gets robbed at knife point?”

Just that moment the knifepoint tore down the road past us, loot in hand. Joel and I raced around the corner to the victim.

“Dude, are you OK?” We called as we neared. The man was getting back on his feet, presumably after a final scuttle. “We saw what happened.”

The man stopped mid-pat and stared through us. “You. Saw. It. Happening… and you did nothing? I could’ve been killed.”

“Look dude, we’re sorry, we were just trying to help.”

“Oh yeah? If you were really trying to help you would’ve done something when I had a fucking knife to my throat, jackass.”

The absolute truth took the air out of our lungs – I suspect more mine than Joel’s.

The man caught himself and adjusted. “I appreciate the help boys, but all I’m saying is: always do what you’d want others to do for you.”