The story of a stolen cell phone, or “How my fiance and I spent our 2 year anniversary at the ER”


So last night was a bundle of fun. You know how you set your phone down, ladies, when you go to pee. Right there above the toilet paper, so it won’t fall in? Yeah- don’t do that, or at least remember to grab it when you are done. People are not as honest or good as your might think, and it results in you all winding up at the ER- but we will get to that later. After realizing, to my horror, that my phone was not where it was supposed to be, I went to the bartenders and the other staff to see if they had come across the phone or if someone with morals had turned the phone in. Not so much. I announced to my fiancé, Chris that my phone was not where it needed to be (my pocket) and I needed him to help find it using the various apps and whatnot on the phone, to which he quickly complied and went into Sherlock mode. In a flash, he was out tracing the now moving signal of my phone, no longer at the bar in which it initially was. In other words, my phone was now stolen. It’s amazing the feeling of violation one can feel when they realize that people just aren’t really that good sometimes. A lot of the people who my fiancé and I interacted with on the GREAT PHONE QUEST were exceptionally helpful people who were able to empathize with my plight, but that did not stop the four individuals who apparently thought morals and laws applied to them. I hope their mothers would give them a very strong lecture had they known of what their children have grown up to be.

Eventually in our waiting , the phone appeared to move again, going from the venue where an Eagles cover band was playing (well, I might add) into the parking lot area. There was a lot of distraction going on in that direction, as an ambulance and fire truck descended on the scene. Watching the events unfold, I turned to Chris who was keeping his eyes on a group of rather tipsy early-twenty-somethings hailing a cab in front of us, and joked, “ What if the person who stole my phone was so wracked with guilt that they had a panic attack and is in that ambulance?” We laughed at the humor of the proposed situation, and returned to our vigilance.

As the phone had not moved in quite some time, I thought that perhaps the thief had rethought their actions and had turned in the phone to the music venue’s barkeeps. I made the rounds in record time, with disappointing results. Exiting the building, I was caught up in a run as my fiancé shouted, “ They are on the move, quickly, your keys!”

We sprinted to the car and began our pursuit by vehicle. At this point, I had already contacted the police to report the phone stolen, and provided them with what info we already had.  As we wove down the surface roads, following a little green dot on the find my phone app, we observed that its route was similar to urban transport; a bus perhaps? Abruptly, the dot stopped, and did not continue to move any further. We had them! The location was somewhere within downtown, and as we continued towards the tiny beacon, it became apparent what our final destination would be: CMC- Mercy hospital. My earlier observation about the ambulance had been eerily  spot on. I can now honestly say that there is a correlation with stealing my phone, and going to the hospital in an ambulance.

The app traced my phone to the ER, and after some circling of the car, and some moments of getting lost on the outside campus (seriously, that place is huge and confusing in the middle of the night), we found ourselves at the entrance to the ER. Walking through the automatic doors, I immediately spotted a group of 4 adults further down the hall, who strongly resembled the group who had congregated outside of the ambulance earlier in the evening. As my fiancé spoke to the security officer at the front entrance, the group shifted. There, in one of the woman’s hands, was my phone.  Now a word on my phone for a moment; it is very distinctive. Cased in an Otterbox, the plastic is white and the rubber is black, a culmination of two separate boxes, and pretty easy to spot. I turned to Chris and whispered, “She has it. That’s my phone.” To which he promptly walked over to her and asked, “Where did you get the phone?”  while he deftly snatched it from her claw and walked it back to me.  At this point the security guard was on his feet between us and the two harpies, who were screeching at us in an attempt to place themselves sound like the in position as victims. “How do you know this is YOUR phone?” the short-haired harpy demanded. I grasped the phone, and promptly unlocked it using my passcode. “Because I know how to unlock it.” I stated, a response that unleashed more from the screeching harpies.

The rest of the evening was spent, as many of these types of stories will, with a lot of waiting, and eventual statement to the police officer. Most importantly, to me at least, was having a successful adventure with my future husband, resulting in my phone and I being reunited.  And the look of shock on that woman’s face when she realized we had tracked her thieving self down was pretty priceless too.


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