The scene was comical and unnerving. High summer in Manhattan, the entire island under a furnace, the tourists red-faced and antsy and not far from Carnegie Hall, a street vendor switching from sales to flight mode. He had handbags and purses laid out on a rug and spoke in a strong African accent. An associate of his came sprinting down from the next block and within seconds, the wares were scooped up in the rug, bundled into a nearby trolley even as a car with officers inside came crawling down the avenue.
The vendor ducked behind parked cars and played a game of cat and mouse with the police car before making a dash up the avenue and disappearing into the crowd.
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