As promised, the mother of all blog posts

(Part 1 of several. Maybe a touch melodramatic, but written in relative real-time.)

For me the peace and serenity of Seattle ended on Tuesday, November 20 at 8:05 PST. I was walking (nearly running) back to my apartment; I was in a rush because I was supposed to meet a friend to return some things that had been left in my apartment. I was also in a rush because I had come from watching Duke play Illinois in Maui, and when I had left the bar with my friends the Illini had started a bit of a rally.

As per normal I walked down Mercer Street and turned up 4th Ave West. That's my favorite street to walk up in my neighborhood because at the top of the street is a gorgeous apartment building that I love to look at. I turned on to Roy and started the final stretch to my apartment at 5th W and Roy. There were a couple of guys walking the other way on Roy, but otherwise the street was empty. I was wholly focused on getting back in a hurry, as my friend had already called to inform me he was waiting.

Which is why I was pretty surprised when I noticed that after passing the two guys one of them immediately turned around.

Which is why I was really surprised when he pulled out a gun*, told me to turn around, and told me to give him everything.

Luckily my body responded faster than my brain, and I turned around and raised my arms and lifted off my messenger bag. While I performed this split-second pirouette I saw a glint of light off something in the bigger guys hand. It clicked.

The guy without the gun* started to frisk me and try and get my wallet. He succeeded. He got my cell phone. The big guy with the gun kept saying "Give me everything", and its possible that I mumbled something like "that's everything." It was the truth. It was everything.

Having successfully relieved me of many of my portable worldly possessions and a good deal of my street confidence the two culprits took off down Roy Street, turning right on 4th Ave West. It would seem they passed somewhere near my KFC before making their way to Fremont and points beyond.

My journey was much shorter. After they turned the corner I ran towards my apartment to find my friend John and his girlfriend waiting. I blabbered something like "I just got jacked" and John, having lived in DC, immediately dialed 911. I was on the phone at 8:07, maybe 60 seconds after the event. I described what had happened, what I could remember of the culprits, where I was, etc etc etc. It took five minutes or so for the first squad car to arrive. I repeated my descriptions and pointed to the location again. I first officer told me that they were sending a K-9 unit to see if they could pick up a trail, but she seriously doubted it would do much good, as there had already been ample time to escape.

A second officer arrived on scene and proceeded to... chill. After a while the first officer said "Hey, maybe you should just cruise around to see if you see anything." Duh. The K-9 officer arrived and I recounted my tale a third time, although the details were starting to sharpen and blur simultaneously in my mind. The K-9 officer seemed reasonably satisfied, got the dog, and took off. He was gone for a while; we tracked his progress over the radio, hence we knew he was near KFC. At this point I was sitting in the first officer's car (well, the back seat) because it's freezing right now in Seattle. Cold and dangerous. And dry. Three things I wasn't expecting. Another officer arrived on the scene, seemingly someone of higher rank than the others. For a fourth time I retold my story, and for a fourth time the listener seemed disappointed with what I could tell them. Apparently it is key to remember what colors your assailants are wearing when you are held at gunpoint at night on a dark street. My bad.

Eventually whatever scent the dog had went cold and they started searching for my stuff, most likely a discarded bag and an empty wallet. I can't imagine they'll find it. The officer gave me a card with my case number. It took me a while to figure out what to do. I counted my assets: a friends cellphone, a cop's business card, a sharp mind. I counted my liabilities: no keys, no identification, no phone numbers for anyone I know, no coin of the realm, a mind clouded by the shock of the situation. I was pretty close to declaring situational bankruptcy.

I decided the biggest problem to solve was that of shelter. I knew my neighbors kept some sort of master key to the building, so they would probably be able to let me into my apartment. But then there was the fact that I didn't have a key to my building... hmm. Luckily as I approached the front door there was a fellow resident standing there. I knocked on the door and he looked at me reluctantly. After opening the door I explained what happened and showed him the officer's business card. Success! Return on assets = infinity. I made my way upstairs and knocked on my neighbors door. After some machinations (involving 90 year old ladies and some debate over whether I have some sort of magical master key) I was able to get into my apartment and arrange for new locks to be installed tomorrow.

At this point I sat down and ate a significant chunk of a candy bar. It was fantastic.

Luckily I have been paying $21.85/month for local phone service that I never use, and so I was able to call can cancel all of my credit and ATM cards. Sadly, the programmer for the lost and stolen card VRU (voice response unit) at Citibank hasn't realized that when people are calling that number they likely don't have their card number handy, since otherwise they wouldn't be calling that number. Eventually I found a way around that block, but it was the closest I came to losing my patience all night. When I canceled my debit card I found out that my antifriends had made their way to Fremont, as there was a $1 auth sitting on the card. This means they bought gas. Funny to think they chose my debit card as opposed to my other cards. I'd say I have about 4x the open-to-buy via credit as opposed to debit. But they had a gun*, so they could spend my/their money accordingly. Helpfully, the BofA rep told me that I would be credited with any money that followed the $1 auth on Thursday, even though Thursday is Thanksgiving. Way to go BofA.

With the financial accounts settled (no shopping for me on Black Friday) I called Verizon. The dual mini-tragedies of this episode have to do with my phone. First, I bought a new Blackberry last Sunday. I loved it, but it is gone. Second, on that phone was the number of a pretty cool girl I met this past Saturday. I was supposed to call her on Tuesday night, but sadly, that number is gone as well. At some point I will get my monthly bill from Verizon that contains her number and I will see if she believes that I was actually robbed at gun*point. On the positive front, I realized that I still had my old phone sitting around, waiting to be donated to someone in need. I declared myself "in need". The Verizon rep was able to reactivate it, so now I have telephony and the numbers of everyone I know. Except the girl. Subtract most of a liability. Add two assets. Things were looking up.

At this point I had finished watching Duke win (on TiVo), which was surprisingly reassuring. I surfed the InterWebs for a while and found some crime stats. They aren't surprising. My old district in DC had 8800 major crimes reported in 2006. My census tract in Seattle had 700. If you expand my census track to include everywhere I actually go in Seattle that number runs up to 3900. If you look only at robberies then DC's 3rd district maintained a 1095 to 220 edge. I was never touched in DC. This is why I'm freaked out.

I've written all of this because I'm not sure if I'll be able to sleep tonight (eventually sleep fell on top of me around 3:00). Technically my antifriends have my address and my keys, so if they wanted I guess they could come back for a visit. I don't actually believe that will happen. They seemed to young to do that. But they did have a gun*, so I've wedged my armchair in the entry nook.


The last time I felt this jumpy at night was when a roach crawled across my pillow in my new apartment in DC.

Another asset! While rummaging through my desk I realized that I actually have some coin of the realm. I've never closed my Capital One card, so it will now enter the fray along with my Discover card, who's sole purpose in life is to refill my Starbucks card. Armed with credit, Americans, myself included, are unstoppable.

So this is where I will finally sign off. I'm safe. The rest really doesn't matter.

* I say my antifriends had a gun. There's a nonzero chance that whatever they had wasn't a gun. The one guy was definitely pointing something at me. It definitely reflected what little light there was. It clicked. These would seem to indicate a gun, but along with almost everything about the situation I don't really know. The click sounded like plastic. Could it have been a toy? Sure. But do I know? Not really. I can't even say for sure what the guys were wearing even though I was thinking "remember what these guys are wearing" when the whole thing went down. I can totally see how eyewitness accounts are a joke; I told the officer that I could probably identify one of the guys if he walked in front of me, but if he was in a lineup of similar looking dudes, well, no chance. I notice everything about people except their names. Obviously names weren't an issue here. The gun* was.