A bunch of peri- and post-menopausal girls had an nice evening out together: A delicious meal in good company and a beautiful authentic building, good service, perfect. After the meal three of us decided to walk to where Bee lives, Borg had left her car parked there and the plan was she would give me a ride home. So we walk down the late night streets, admiring the beautiful Floral Art buildings, crossing an open space to find Bee's street just the other side of a railroad bridge. There in a flash I see my friend Borg on her face, a guy pulling at her purse and she too dazed to let go or to pull back. Bee and I start making a lot of ruckus. I loudly telling the young white male to let her alone, to take his hands of her purse, to go away. Bee was louder than I and shouting also at the other big guy. Moving towards my friend, the young man lets go, Borg gets back on her feet, dripping with blood and Bee is shouting you: rotten bastards.... So, offended the small guy comes back and threatening stands in front her. The other guy taking off with her camera... Bee was steaming: this in her own town, in her own neighborhood. After some care at the hospital Borg decided just to drive home, and yes she did drop me off. Today, she is almost alright.