Thursday, January 15, 2004
International ID
Why in the hell are passport photos so bad?
My passport photo looks like I've been up for days doing nefarious international things.
If I am ever wanted by the FBI, I hope they do not use my passport photo for the wanted poster, I'll be convicted before the trial. Puffy. I look puffy and non-caring.
I'm pretty sure I was non-caring. The day the picture was taken was about two days after the end of spring semester, and the day before I moved across the country.
I don't remember being puffy, though.
My passport photo looks like I've been up for days doing nefarious international things.
If I am ever wanted by the FBI, I hope they do not use my passport photo for the wanted poster, I'll be convicted before the trial. Puffy. I look puffy and non-caring.
I'm pretty sure I was non-caring. The day the picture was taken was about two days after the end of spring semester, and the day before I moved across the country.
I don't remember being puffy, though.
Tuesday, January 13, 2004
*zzz*
Sorry, not super witty stuff tonight. Spent all that earlier today, came home for some early snoozin. Let me offer this instead.
(Chuckle. There's a car alarm going off outside the window. I finally realized it might be mine- dawning on me I have no idea what mine sounds like. Checked. Not mine. And, no, no one is stealing anything out of the car just outside my window, someone bumped it from the slippy ice.)
(Chuckle. There's a car alarm going off outside the window. I finally realized it might be mine- dawning on me I have no idea what mine sounds like. Checked. Not mine. And, no, no one is stealing anything out of the car just outside my window, someone bumped it from the slippy ice.)
Taketh and Giveth
Two words: renter's insurance.
You can afford it. It's worth it. It's about $10/mo.
I'll be talking with the local case agent tomorrow, but from talking to my insurance company today, looks like the contents of my purse are covered against jackasses stealing it.
Sweet.
This is the one time I'm glad for proprietary cable connections on cameras. It's useless to the little fuck unless he (a) sells it or (b) goes somewhere and lays down some money for the charger and firewire for that particular camera.
It sucks he got my New Year's photos. I was the only person among friends with a camera there, so I lost picture for three people.
Oh well. Not all is wrong with the world. The grocery store finally had Nutella in the recently ever-empty spot on the shelf.
You can afford it. It's worth it. It's about $10/mo.
I'll be talking with the local case agent tomorrow, but from talking to my insurance company today, looks like the contents of my purse are covered against jackasses stealing it.
Sweet.
This is the one time I'm glad for proprietary cable connections on cameras. It's useless to the little fuck unless he (a) sells it or (b) goes somewhere and lays down some money for the charger and firewire for that particular camera.
It sucks he got my New Year's photos. I was the only person among friends with a camera there, so I lost picture for three people.
Oh well. Not all is wrong with the world. The grocery store finally had Nutella in the recently ever-empty spot on the shelf.
Sunday, January 11, 2004
"YOU GODDAMN PIECE OF SHIT MOTHER FUCKER"
As I was cussing at the top of my lungs, running across the parking lot at max speed, it was amazing how many complete thoughts went through my head one by one and and distinctly coherent.
Of course, I can't remember every single one. Some things get swept away with the adrenalin.
But I remember thinking a few things like:
-"Holly shit, I can actually run like hell in these new Dansko shoes I just bought."
-"See, this is why I wear my keys on my belt."
-"That's right- I'm chasing you mother fucker."
-"Must catch that mother fucking jackass."
-"Yes, my phone is on my belt, too."
-"Note what he is wearing."
-"Gray hoodie. He's wearing a gray hoodie with the hood up."
-"If you trip and fall mother fucker, I'm going to mash your sweaty face into the fucking pavement until the goddamn cops get here."
-"Why is no one else running after this fuckhead?"
-"Must enunciate that he has just stolen my purse so that someone close can fucking run and catch him."
-"Please don't let him have a buddy waiting at the end of the parking lot with a car."
-"Enunciate to him that there's only ten bucks in there and that he can have it, but he'd better ditch the purse because he's a horse shit mother fucking piece of horse shit cock sucker and the entire fucking Waterfront can hear me yelling and I want my goddamned purse and wallet back."
-"Enunciate now that he stole my purse and is wearing a gray sweatshirt because somehow that will make him ditch my purse by him knowing that I know what he is wearing because there is no way in hell I can catch up to him and the older fellow who joined the chase, while much closer than I am, is not going to catch him either because that goddamn fucking piece of shit is heading across the road and towards the tracks where it's dark and he's really fucking fast."
-"Continue to insert the phrase 'you stole my purse' amongst the continuous wall of profane insults because I _really_ need a miracle in the form of a college track star to hear me and catch this fucker."
Yep. Those are a few of the very clear thoughts going through my head as ran at top speed (thank you flight and/or fight response) through the larger-than-a-football-field parking lot at the Waterfront in Homestead, PA. In parallel to these thoughts, I was yelling, at the top of my lungs, a continuos stream of insults and profanity. Conscientiously screaming at the top of my lungs, while chasing this person at almost eight pm at night across the parking lot of the largest shopping/dinning/movies complex in Pittsburgh, with the explicit purpose of getting other people to chase him and catch him. Because, unless this fucker tripped and injured himself badly, I was not going to catch him. He was just too fast, and gaining distance. "Somebody stop that mother fucker!" got heard by the entire movie theater end of the Waterfront.
A valiant middle-aged man gave it everything he had. He was much closer to the guy than I was but just couldn't catch up. He followed him across the road but the purse-stealing son of a horse-fucker disappeared. As I thanked him, once we knew we were defeated, he said "I have to get back to my kids, but yeah- I heard you, looked up, and saw the guy running so I took off after him. Sorry, he was just too fast. He's probably still there in the shadows somewhere, he completely disappeared, I didn't even see him anywhere once I got over the road." I thanked him again, profusely.
As I was walking back to Panera, running through the possibilities what I'm supposed to do now, two women were heading towards me. Thirty-something Pittsburghers. "Did you get your purse back?" No, he got away, just too fast. "Man, you gave a great effort. We are so sorry- we called 911 for you. The dispatcher said there were cops already over here [meaning the Waterfront] and that he'd dispatch them over here immediately. Did you see them- they have their lights on," and one of them pointed to where I had just come from. And, yeah, two cop cars where driving over to the edge of the parking lot where he crossed over. I said "thank you so much" and they assured me that with this reported so fast, they'll either catch him or at least find my purse. They said they told the dispatcher I had come from Panera, which is good, because I wasn't sure if I was supposed to go back to the road where the cops were or go inside. I was starting to notice it was ten degrees and that my coat was inside.
I headed towards Panera and after a few steps I saw a man in uniform heading towards me looking intent on finding me. "Hi- wow, that was fast. Yes, you're looking for me, it was my purse that was stolen."
It was a security guy. He said Panera called as soon as it happened and that the cops were over there looking for him. I suggested we go inside, and as we did he said "I can get your information, give it to my boss, and he get it to the police." This was nice, but I was thinking that I'd rather talk directly to the police. We went inside, back to my table. A quarter of my gigantic muffin was still there.
When he was done, I asked if I could talk to the police before they left, hoping he had some magic way of calling them up on his walkie talkie. He looked a little hurt so I said I had some questions for them as far as what I'm supposed to do. Not a complete lie, but I was not impressed with him as a middle man. Also didn't want to hurt is feelings.
A went over to the same cashier I bought the muffin from to get a pen. When she rang me up she had commented on my Yeah Yeah Yeah's bag (the purse) and we had both basked in the thought of Karen O for a moment while I paid for my muffin. A police officer came in as I headed back. "You're looking for me." "Are you hurt?" "Nope." We went back to my table, the second table from the door. It was one of those tall ones about fifteen feet from the entrance, and about 20 feet from the coffee carafes. I told him what had happened:
-I had my bag here on the chair.
-I went to refill coffee, left the bag. It was twenty feet from the coffee.
-Before I started to fill my cup, I looked over to see if my bag, was OK. It's not in the chair and I see a guy, with my bag, casually on purpose heading towards the door.
-He was close to the door so I immediately start yelling for him to put it down and I take off after him. I yelled that he just stole my purse the entire way across the parking lot, but he got away. Crossed over towards the tracks just where the concrete side barrier from the bridge ramp stops.
-A guy who was closer chased him but said he just disappeared on the other side of the bridge ramp. No, I have no idea which way he went after crossing over.
I told him his height and weight and that he was young, late teens/early twenties. Gray hoodie. I said he could talk to the two girls two tables over; they told me when I had come back in that they saw the guy and got a good look at him. He was staring at them when they came in so much that they noticed it as odd. They were coming through the doors as he was heading towards them, seconds before I saw him.
The officer radios the other officers his description and confirms where he was seen last. Pretty soon, another officer radios that he found a gray sweatshirt over across the road, inside out. He heads over to Panera with it. He show it to me: it has a four inch bands of yellow and purple on the sleeves and in the front across the chest. But behold: it's all gray on the back. The officer points out that it's not very cold. "It's ten degrees out there, this thing should be freezing stiff."
Officer number #1 gets down what I had in my purse, asks a few more questions, and asks again that I have my keys. Before the cop leaves, the manager comes over asking if I'm OK. Cop asks if they have cameras, manager says he wished they did. They both ask me if the guy was a customer, I had no idea- I had been reading a magazine and didn't take particular note of anyone wearing a gray hoodie. The cop mentions to the manager that a few months ago there were those kids who lingered by the Panera door and snatched a purse off of a lady.
Cops leaves, manager and I chitty chat, he's only been here about two months and comments on me seeming to be dealing with this pretty well and I think to myself, Well, I chased him for at least an eighth of a mile while cursing him to hell at the top of my lungs and he's somewhere freezing his skinny ass off because he striped his sweatshirt off, and that this is actually a little satisfying. "Well, and I have my keys and phone, so really I just lost my wallet and camera. And a book I just bought. Not that bad, really."
"Credit cards in the wallet?"
"Of course. And my military ID."
"Really? I used to be in the service, too. Man, that sucks to loose your ID. Do you have your credit card phone numbers?"
"I can call some friends to look them up online for me, I want to wait around incase they find anything but I want to cancel the cards as soon as possible."
More chitty chat. He had a great story of his friend whose car got broken into a few years ago. He was bummed because they took a lot of good tools he had in the back. Heavy, expensive tools and power tools. While his friend was busy feeling victimized (his words), he went for a walk around the block and recovered most of his friends tools. They were bulky and heavy so the thief dumped them.
Phone call. Get numbers. Chitty chat. Yeah, I'm fine. Phone call. Get numbers. Chitty chat. No, I'm fine. Yeah, the most sucky part is that (a) mil ID and Colorado driver's license gone (b) the sweet camera is gone. But hurray I have my keys and phone. Call bank. Seven to ten days is fine. Call credit cards. Yep, that's my address. Five to ten days is fine.
Chitty chat with manager and cashier some more. Head out. Stop by police department to also tell them I had a freshly purchased book in the purse. Officer #1 was there, he was writing up the report, was glad I stopped by, asked the value of the stuff in the purse. Chitty chat. Thanked him again. Headed home.
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A few thoughts:
1. The irony leading up to this is great: (a) my slight weirdness of clipping my keys to my clothes/beltloop for this very possibility of tonight's events, (b) ditto for phone, (c) I almost didn't bring a purse at all today and almost just put my wallet in my jacket pocket, (d) that is the only purse I have any sentimental value for, (e) I leave my purse at my table sometimes to test my faith in humanity, (d) I told myself last week to put the credit card info and bank number (aside from the automated teller number I already have) into my phone, (e) that bag brought the cashier and I a tender non-consumer moment, (f) I decidedly left my phone headset and iPod in the car.
2. Could I have caught the guy if I had quietly just came up behind him? He wasn't looking at me. He was about twelve feet away when I saw him. He was only a little taller than I am, and skinny. What if I had thrown my coffee mug at him, or dropped it on the floor to distract him. Would I have just grabbed my purse or would I have punched him or tackled him? (Likely tackled, people punch back when punched.)
3. What exactly did I say when I saw him? I know I was loud. I remember a thought process along the lines of: (a) Fuck. (b) Point and yell that he's stealing my purse and someone will stop him. (c) I'm loud and yelling. (d)He's not stopping. (e) He's out the door and I'm the only one chasing him unless someone is behind me.
4. I would like to think I pointed and yelled "Stop him! He has my purse!" But really, I could have pointed and yelled "Stop mother fucker! You have my purse!" This would have only confused the people nearby who could have stopped him. There were at least four or five people near him/coming in the door (there's a small foyer with two sets of doors).
5. He's a dumb fuck. Fast, but dumb. He had the purse so I could see it. The chair would have been on his left as he passed it heading towards the door. The purse was in his right arm. I was to his right. The entire damn Panera was to his right. All he had to do was put it on his left and I would not have seen him so obviously with my purse. Did he think I wouldn't look up? Probably not a bad assumption, but still.
6. I'm a dumb fuck. I left my very obvious purse very obviously in the chair. Whatever. People aren't supposed to steal stuff.
7. OK. The purse-stealer failed the humanity test. But, a lot of people showed good will tonight. Peopled called the police, I was offered bus fare, rides home, food, and promises from people that they'd be looking for him while they were at the Waterfront tonight. It was unfortunate that no fast runners accepted the call to good samaritanism tonight, but that one guy who did is a super-star right now. He'll go to bed feeling good tonight. I wish I could thank him again.
8. Thanks to the two girls who came up and said they got a really good look at him. They said that someone said it was uncalled for for me to chase him and yell, but that they disagreed. They were happy I chased him. This has left me thinking: what in the hell was I supposed to do? Stand there? "Oh, stop. That's not yours."? Whatever. Wallow in your apathy.
9. I apologize to all the parents whose young children heard me. The kids will be fine.
10. I live in DC for a year, which is something like the crime capitol of the free world, and nothing happened. I'm at a pristine consumer megaplex in Pennsylvania and some suburban kid steals my purse at a coffee shop.
11. After all, it's just stuff. And, HURRAY! my phone and keys weren't in there. That would have sucked a bit more. None-the-less, I hope that little horse fucking jackass mother fucker had to walk a long way in a sweaty t-shirt in the ten degree weather tonight.
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NOTE TO PURSE THIEVES: Take the cards and money. But leave the fucking purse somewhere where it'll be found. And leave the wallet. By default, we have stuff in the wallet that is meaningless to you but not worthless to us. Scraps of fucking paper with phone numbers and random stuff you don't want. Just leave the purse out in the parking lot. Jackass.
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Thought 12. (Added after original post, Thought of this while brushing my teeth.) So, standing on the side of the road where the purse thief crossed over from the parking lot, I didn't know what to do. Looking into the dark wasn't helping. The trees planted by the road weren't helping, either. It's at the end of a ramp from the bridge that crosses the over Monongahela river from Homestead heading towards Squirrel Hill. The road is still banked up a little there, so the side opposite the parking lot is lower and not lit up. I knew I was not going down there. Not worth it. So, I looked for a few moments then headed back into the parking lot, back towards Panera, not quite sure what to do. If it had remotely dawned on me that the police would show up in less than a minute, then I would have stayed. Stayed standing there hurling insults and threats into the dark so that he'd stay hiding. If he actually ran anywhere from that spot,it'd be in the open. Rather dark open, but open none-the-less. If I had stayed, yelling, the police could have found him. They would have gone down there, trained for this sort of thing, and found the little jackass hiding. Yeah, he could have torn off running once the cops got close, but that would have been one notch even more satisfying that I would have thought to have done that. Kind of like a coon-dog. The whole point of a coon-dog is the dog chases the raccoon up a tree and keeps barking at it so that (a) the hunter (with the gun) knows where the tree is and (b) the coon's still in the tree when the hunter gets there.
OK. Well, I didn't stay. He got away. Oh well.
Of course, I can't remember every single one. Some things get swept away with the adrenalin.
But I remember thinking a few things like:
-"Holly shit, I can actually run like hell in these new Dansko shoes I just bought."
-"See, this is why I wear my keys on my belt."
-"That's right- I'm chasing you mother fucker."
-"Must catch that mother fucking jackass."
-"Yes, my phone is on my belt, too."
-"Note what he is wearing."
-"Gray hoodie. He's wearing a gray hoodie with the hood up."
-"If you trip and fall mother fucker, I'm going to mash your sweaty face into the fucking pavement until the goddamn cops get here."
-"Why is no one else running after this fuckhead?"
-"Must enunciate that he has just stolen my purse so that someone close can fucking run and catch him."
-"Please don't let him have a buddy waiting at the end of the parking lot with a car."
-"Enunciate to him that there's only ten bucks in there and that he can have it, but he'd better ditch the purse because he's a horse shit mother fucking piece of horse shit cock sucker and the entire fucking Waterfront can hear me yelling and I want my goddamned purse and wallet back."
-"Enunciate now that he stole my purse and is wearing a gray sweatshirt because somehow that will make him ditch my purse by him knowing that I know what he is wearing because there is no way in hell I can catch up to him and the older fellow who joined the chase, while much closer than I am, is not going to catch him either because that goddamn fucking piece of shit is heading across the road and towards the tracks where it's dark and he's really fucking fast."
-"Continue to insert the phrase 'you stole my purse' amongst the continuous wall of profane insults because I _really_ need a miracle in the form of a college track star to hear me and catch this fucker."
Yep. Those are a few of the very clear thoughts going through my head as ran at top speed (thank you flight and/or fight response) through the larger-than-a-football-field parking lot at the Waterfront in Homestead, PA. In parallel to these thoughts, I was yelling, at the top of my lungs, a continuos stream of insults and profanity. Conscientiously screaming at the top of my lungs, while chasing this person at almost eight pm at night across the parking lot of the largest shopping/dinning/movies complex in Pittsburgh, with the explicit purpose of getting other people to chase him and catch him. Because, unless this fucker tripped and injured himself badly, I was not going to catch him. He was just too fast, and gaining distance. "Somebody stop that mother fucker!" got heard by the entire movie theater end of the Waterfront.
A valiant middle-aged man gave it everything he had. He was much closer to the guy than I was but just couldn't catch up. He followed him across the road but the purse-stealing son of a horse-fucker disappeared. As I thanked him, once we knew we were defeated, he said "I have to get back to my kids, but yeah- I heard you, looked up, and saw the guy running so I took off after him. Sorry, he was just too fast. He's probably still there in the shadows somewhere, he completely disappeared, I didn't even see him anywhere once I got over the road." I thanked him again, profusely.
As I was walking back to Panera, running through the possibilities what I'm supposed to do now, two women were heading towards me. Thirty-something Pittsburghers. "Did you get your purse back?" No, he got away, just too fast. "Man, you gave a great effort. We are so sorry- we called 911 for you. The dispatcher said there were cops already over here [meaning the Waterfront] and that he'd dispatch them over here immediately. Did you see them- they have their lights on," and one of them pointed to where I had just come from. And, yeah, two cop cars where driving over to the edge of the parking lot where he crossed over. I said "thank you so much" and they assured me that with this reported so fast, they'll either catch him or at least find my purse. They said they told the dispatcher I had come from Panera, which is good, because I wasn't sure if I was supposed to go back to the road where the cops were or go inside. I was starting to notice it was ten degrees and that my coat was inside.
I headed towards Panera and after a few steps I saw a man in uniform heading towards me looking intent on finding me. "Hi- wow, that was fast. Yes, you're looking for me, it was my purse that was stolen."
It was a security guy. He said Panera called as soon as it happened and that the cops were over there looking for him. I suggested we go inside, and as we did he said "I can get your information, give it to my boss, and he get it to the police." This was nice, but I was thinking that I'd rather talk directly to the police. We went inside, back to my table. A quarter of my gigantic muffin was still there.
When he was done, I asked if I could talk to the police before they left, hoping he had some magic way of calling them up on his walkie talkie. He looked a little hurt so I said I had some questions for them as far as what I'm supposed to do. Not a complete lie, but I was not impressed with him as a middle man. Also didn't want to hurt is feelings.
A went over to the same cashier I bought the muffin from to get a pen. When she rang me up she had commented on my Yeah Yeah Yeah's bag (the purse) and we had both basked in the thought of Karen O for a moment while I paid for my muffin. A police officer came in as I headed back. "You're looking for me." "Are you hurt?" "Nope." We went back to my table, the second table from the door. It was one of those tall ones about fifteen feet from the entrance, and about 20 feet from the coffee carafes. I told him what had happened:
-I had my bag here on the chair.
-I went to refill coffee, left the bag. It was twenty feet from the coffee.
-Before I started to fill my cup, I looked over to see if my bag, was OK. It's not in the chair and I see a guy, with my bag, casually on purpose heading towards the door.
-He was close to the door so I immediately start yelling for him to put it down and I take off after him. I yelled that he just stole my purse the entire way across the parking lot, but he got away. Crossed over towards the tracks just where the concrete side barrier from the bridge ramp stops.
-A guy who was closer chased him but said he just disappeared on the other side of the bridge ramp. No, I have no idea which way he went after crossing over.
I told him his height and weight and that he was young, late teens/early twenties. Gray hoodie. I said he could talk to the two girls two tables over; they told me when I had come back in that they saw the guy and got a good look at him. He was staring at them when they came in so much that they noticed it as odd. They were coming through the doors as he was heading towards them, seconds before I saw him.
The officer radios the other officers his description and confirms where he was seen last. Pretty soon, another officer radios that he found a gray sweatshirt over across the road, inside out. He heads over to Panera with it. He show it to me: it has a four inch bands of yellow and purple on the sleeves and in the front across the chest. But behold: it's all gray on the back. The officer points out that it's not very cold. "It's ten degrees out there, this thing should be freezing stiff."
Officer number #1 gets down what I had in my purse, asks a few more questions, and asks again that I have my keys. Before the cop leaves, the manager comes over asking if I'm OK. Cop asks if they have cameras, manager says he wished they did. They both ask me if the guy was a customer, I had no idea- I had been reading a magazine and didn't take particular note of anyone wearing a gray hoodie. The cop mentions to the manager that a few months ago there were those kids who lingered by the Panera door and snatched a purse off of a lady.
Cops leaves, manager and I chitty chat, he's only been here about two months and comments on me seeming to be dealing with this pretty well and I think to myself, Well, I chased him for at least an eighth of a mile while cursing him to hell at the top of my lungs and he's somewhere freezing his skinny ass off because he striped his sweatshirt off, and that this is actually a little satisfying. "Well, and I have my keys and phone, so really I just lost my wallet and camera. And a book I just bought. Not that bad, really."
"Credit cards in the wallet?"
"Of course. And my military ID."
"Really? I used to be in the service, too. Man, that sucks to loose your ID. Do you have your credit card phone numbers?"
"I can call some friends to look them up online for me, I want to wait around incase they find anything but I want to cancel the cards as soon as possible."
More chitty chat. He had a great story of his friend whose car got broken into a few years ago. He was bummed because they took a lot of good tools he had in the back. Heavy, expensive tools and power tools. While his friend was busy feeling victimized (his words), he went for a walk around the block and recovered most of his friends tools. They were bulky and heavy so the thief dumped them.
Phone call. Get numbers. Chitty chat. Yeah, I'm fine. Phone call. Get numbers. Chitty chat. No, I'm fine. Yeah, the most sucky part is that (a) mil ID and Colorado driver's license gone (b) the sweet camera is gone. But hurray I have my keys and phone. Call bank. Seven to ten days is fine. Call credit cards. Yep, that's my address. Five to ten days is fine.
Chitty chat with manager and cashier some more. Head out. Stop by police department to also tell them I had a freshly purchased book in the purse. Officer #1 was there, he was writing up the report, was glad I stopped by, asked the value of the stuff in the purse. Chitty chat. Thanked him again. Headed home.
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A few thoughts:
1. The irony leading up to this is great: (a) my slight weirdness of clipping my keys to my clothes/beltloop for this very possibility of tonight's events, (b) ditto for phone, (c) I almost didn't bring a purse at all today and almost just put my wallet in my jacket pocket, (d) that is the only purse I have any sentimental value for, (e) I leave my purse at my table sometimes to test my faith in humanity, (d) I told myself last week to put the credit card info and bank number (aside from the automated teller number I already have) into my phone, (e) that bag brought the cashier and I a tender non-consumer moment, (f) I decidedly left my phone headset and iPod in the car.
2. Could I have caught the guy if I had quietly just came up behind him? He wasn't looking at me. He was about twelve feet away when I saw him. He was only a little taller than I am, and skinny. What if I had thrown my coffee mug at him, or dropped it on the floor to distract him. Would I have just grabbed my purse or would I have punched him or tackled him? (Likely tackled, people punch back when punched.)
3. What exactly did I say when I saw him? I know I was loud. I remember a thought process along the lines of: (a) Fuck. (b) Point and yell that he's stealing my purse and someone will stop him. (c) I'm loud and yelling. (d)He's not stopping. (e) He's out the door and I'm the only one chasing him unless someone is behind me.
4. I would like to think I pointed and yelled "Stop him! He has my purse!" But really, I could have pointed and yelled "Stop mother fucker! You have my purse!" This would have only confused the people nearby who could have stopped him. There were at least four or five people near him/coming in the door (there's a small foyer with two sets of doors).
5. He's a dumb fuck. Fast, but dumb. He had the purse so I could see it. The chair would have been on his left as he passed it heading towards the door. The purse was in his right arm. I was to his right. The entire damn Panera was to his right. All he had to do was put it on his left and I would not have seen him so obviously with my purse. Did he think I wouldn't look up? Probably not a bad assumption, but still.
6. I'm a dumb fuck. I left my very obvious purse very obviously in the chair. Whatever. People aren't supposed to steal stuff.
7. OK. The purse-stealer failed the humanity test. But, a lot of people showed good will tonight. Peopled called the police, I was offered bus fare, rides home, food, and promises from people that they'd be looking for him while they were at the Waterfront tonight. It was unfortunate that no fast runners accepted the call to good samaritanism tonight, but that one guy who did is a super-star right now. He'll go to bed feeling good tonight. I wish I could thank him again.
8. Thanks to the two girls who came up and said they got a really good look at him. They said that someone said it was uncalled for for me to chase him and yell, but that they disagreed. They were happy I chased him. This has left me thinking: what in the hell was I supposed to do? Stand there? "Oh, stop. That's not yours."? Whatever. Wallow in your apathy.
9. I apologize to all the parents whose young children heard me. The kids will be fine.
10. I live in DC for a year, which is something like the crime capitol of the free world, and nothing happened. I'm at a pristine consumer megaplex in Pennsylvania and some suburban kid steals my purse at a coffee shop.
11. After all, it's just stuff. And, HURRAY! my phone and keys weren't in there. That would have sucked a bit more. None-the-less, I hope that little horse fucking jackass mother fucker had to walk a long way in a sweaty t-shirt in the ten degree weather tonight.
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NOTE TO PURSE THIEVES: Take the cards and money. But leave the fucking purse somewhere where it'll be found. And leave the wallet. By default, we have stuff in the wallet that is meaningless to you but not worthless to us. Scraps of fucking paper with phone numbers and random stuff you don't want. Just leave the purse out in the parking lot. Jackass.
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Thought 12. (Added after original post, Thought of this while brushing my teeth.) So, standing on the side of the road where the purse thief crossed over from the parking lot, I didn't know what to do. Looking into the dark wasn't helping. The trees planted by the road weren't helping, either. It's at the end of a ramp from the bridge that crosses the over Monongahela river from Homestead heading towards Squirrel Hill. The road is still banked up a little there, so the side opposite the parking lot is lower and not lit up. I knew I was not going down there. Not worth it. So, I looked for a few moments then headed back into the parking lot, back towards Panera, not quite sure what to do. If it had remotely dawned on me that the police would show up in less than a minute, then I would have stayed. Stayed standing there hurling insults and threats into the dark so that he'd stay hiding. If he actually ran anywhere from that spot,it'd be in the open. Rather dark open, but open none-the-less. If I had stayed, yelling, the police could have found him. They would have gone down there, trained for this sort of thing, and found the little jackass hiding. Yeah, he could have torn off running once the cops got close, but that would have been one notch even more satisfying that I would have thought to have done that. Kind of like a coon-dog. The whole point of a coon-dog is the dog chases the raccoon up a tree and keeps barking at it so that (a) the hunter (with the gun) knows where the tree is and (b) the coon's still in the tree when the hunter gets there.
OK. Well, I didn't stay. He got away. Oh well.
