Quote:
Originally Posted by GenuineRisk
I think I mentioned here before, I had my phone stolen out of my hand by a teenager in Central Park. I chased after him (carrying my lunch carton in my hand the whole time) yelling at the top of my lungs, until he finally dropped the phone, terrified, I think, by my ability to run full speed, carry lunch, and shriek at the same time. In this case, it wasn't the thief who was the crazy one.
Had I managed to catch up with him before he dropped the phone I would have advised him to stay in school, as he was terrible at profiling targets. I was wearing running shoes, for chrissake.
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Lol. Geez. My favorite stories are when punks target old guys who turn out to have been marines.
When my boys bike got stolen we called the police, who went, asked the boy if he took it, and he said no. They were about to leave when I showed up. They said he doesn't have it, I said there was a crowd of folks who saw him take it. Sure enough, he had it, was already removing stuff to put on the bike frame he had.
The police in this little town are a joke.