So, we're sitting here drinking wine and watching The Godfather Part II (part of the Friday night Michael film education series) and we get a call. We ignore it as per usual.
A little while later, Michael listens to the message. It's from SFPD asking for Erika Hall (???) and informing us they found an iPhone.
I call back and talk to Officer Tony. Yes, they found my iPhone and if I can pick it up in the next hour, they'll just give it to me. Otherwise, they have to book it as found property and I'll have to go get it at the Bryant station.
I've had a little wine and the station is in the Tenderloin, so Paul graciously agrees to drive me. There's no legal parking, so Paul parked right in front of the station - in between two cop cars - and blocking the station driveway. I went in, and they immediately knew who I was (they had seen the photos on the phone), and Officer Tony came out. He held up my iPhone - my Precious - in perfect condition. I literally clapped my hands and jumped up and down.
"Where did you find it?" I asked him, incredulously. "On a homeless person," he said. Officer Tony went on to explain the homeless person insisted it was his, but Officer Tony said, "Uh, I can't even afford an iPhone," and took it from him. The battery was dead, so get this - THEY TOOK IT TO THE APPLE STORE AND CHARGED IT. I guess "Hall" is close to "Home," which explains the name mix-up, but they found me just fine.
"Um, you may want to clean that off pretty good," Officer Tony advised me. I thanked him profusely, and dashed outside to rescue Paul from his precarious and illegal location.
I'm now sitting here watching my little iPhone charge away, so very, very happy and delighted they took the time to find its rightful owner. Seriously. Who does that?! So very very very very cool.
Thank you thank you thank you, SFPD. And Tenderloin station? Your cookies are on the way.
What's the most valuable thing you've ever had stolen?
Oh, Vox. It's like you follow me on Twitter or something.
This question is especially timely considering I spent part of last evening in front of a bar in the Mission dressed as Madonna (Borderline/Lucky Star) examining each and every bag that came out of the door.
My bag went missing last night (well, technically, this morning) and with it my wallet, phone, and a friend's wallet and phone I was carrying. And we were there. We were Standing! Right! There! Right next to the bench with all of the coats - piled on top of the bag - and still it was swiped.
I've never had my bag stolen before. And you know, there's this optimism - it will turn up, SURELY it will turn up - which is rapidly replaced with a horrifying, sinking feeling when you realize that, no... no, it's gone. Then your mind races, taking inventory of the bag's contents. MY IPHONE! SHIT! MY WALLET! SHITSHIT! REBECCA'S PHONE AND WALLET! SHITSHITSHIT! Then you break it down further, and take stock of what was in the wallet. MY DISNEYLAND PASS! OH DEAR GOD NOOOOOOOOOO!
What a helpless feeling. No money, no cards, no phone to call somebody who might have money, phone, or cards (but this was handled nicely by Rebecca who grabbed a random person and said, "Can I use your phone?"). But still, still, you hold out hope that it was somehow a case of mistaken bag identity and the person who accidentally took it will be a good, decent human being and return it, untouched.
This was debunked when our cards were used to buy gas in the wee hours of the morn.
This is the point you realize that your bag and stuff is gone, all gone... And you now have permission to start calling people "fuckers."
But then you count your blessings. I, for instance, debated whether or not to carry my Nikon D50 around last night, and decided against it (based on some sound advice I received). My ID still has my Southern California address on it, so I don't necessarily need to change the locks (though I probably will anyway). My iPhone had been synced recently. I didn't have a ton of cash in my wallet. It wasn't a particularly expensive bag (though well-worn and well-loved; dubbed "The Woobie" by Paul because I carry it around so much). So yes, it could have been a lot worse.
But it could have been a lot better if some people didn't suck and weren't, indeed, how shall we say, fuckers.