Tuesday, 23 April 2002 | Handbag

I'm trying to remember everything that was in there, one item at a time: my driver's license. Thirty bucks. My ATM card, teacher ID, student ID, Ingo's old Berlin ID. My address book and phone numbers, my only copy of either. My check book. My cell phone. My passport, pages of smeared airport stamps and work visas. My Elph camera. The keys to my house, my car, my bike lock. My Swiss army knife.

I'd gone to play tennis with Richard and Martin. We'd locked Richard's van, and the moment I heard to locks click, I wondered why the hell I'd brought that thing along anyway. It's all gone now. It's been a little over two hours, and I've only started to make the necessary phone calls, including one to my cell phone, which didn't tell me much. I half-expected someone to answer, like on that Seinfeld episode, when Jerry's car was stolen and he called his car phone and chatted with the thief.

Martin's busy changing the locks on the house, since my address and my keys were in my bag. It only happened two blocks from here, after all. I keep looking out the window to see whether my car's still there. So far it is. In a moment, I'm going back to check dumpsters, to kick dumpsters, and to scour the area in the dark.

UPDATE:
My parents are crazy, I think, but in a good way. While I was out, searching for my bag in the park and along the tracks with a dim flashlight, my parents were busy calling my cell phone so that I might hear it and locate what was left of my things. Instead, the thieves answered, just like on Seinfeld. My dad offered them $100 for the bag and its contents, and my parents drove to Raleigh to make the exchange outside a nearby convenient store.

No money left, no ATM card, no bag, no Swiss army knife, and no camera, just my IDs, address book, keys, cell phone, check book, and passport in a plastic bag full of cigarette butts. They admitted to making a few calls and to feeling guilty about "messing with" a teacher and a student (neither of which I am at the moment, but OK) and pretended to be the third party that had retrieved the bag from a rebellious nephew. They tried to con my dad out of more money, but he maintained his initial offer of $100. I'm disappointed to have missed out on that meeting. I'm really impressed.

My parents came by and dropped off my things, and my dad laughed about his encounter, his shaking hands and introducing himself to a car full of people who'd stolen his daughter's things. My parents turned around and headed for home at 1:30 a.m.

The return of a large percentage of my things is making the loss of $130 and camera easier to take.

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