Lock Your Windows Part 1: Tragedy

Trafton B.

March 6, 2010 - 3:04 PM

A normal Sunday night for me usually entails stumbling through my front door late in the evening, droopy eyed from studying throughout the day and letting out an audible "Ugggh" to announce my presence to the roommates. I slink through the kitchen and back to my room, unlock my door, and heave my red messenger bag on the bed before grabbing a snack and joining my roommates on the living room sofas.

Last Sunday night was just like all the others, or at least I thought it was. Then, tragedy stuck. After watching the new episode of The Simpsons, I walked back to my room to put my computer away and grab some new reading material, but I noticed something was different. Something just didn't feel the same. My red bag was no longer lying on my bed and my window was wide open. Someone had reached their grimy paws inside and snatched my bag away.

A slew of emotions rushed through my head. Sorrow. Confusion. Anger. Disgust. My privacy had been breached and yet I couldn't help but laugh at the absolute absurdity of the event. It was bizarre. Either someone knew that my window was usually open and planned the heist, or more likely some bum searching for cans to recycle saw my lights on and smelled the trail mix and oranges in the bag.

The first thing I did was try to recall what items were in there - i.e. the stuff I would never see again. A couple notebooks, some class readings, random pens and pencils. I was pretty lucky really considering I didn't lose anything of great value, nothing irreplaceable that is. My computer was in hand and I'd taken my camera, phone and iPod out beforehand; so it could have been a lot worse. The thing I missed the most was probably the $8 "Rose Bowl 2010" lapel pin. As the night went on, though, I slowly figured out what else I had in my bag.

Around 11:30 that night, I felt my stomach rumble and needed a night cap before heading to bed. Right then it hit me that the second half of my dinner was also in my bag. It was the last six inches of a foot-long hoagie known as "The Destroyer" from the campus Sub Shop.
To put things into perspective, the Destroyer is pretty much every carnivore's dream. I was actually excited when I couldn't finish the entire sandwich because I would get to finish it later. I asked the waitress what was on it and she simply responded, "seven types of meat and three cheeses, plus all the normal toppings." I didn't even need her to go into detail. I was sold right then and there. To tell you the truth, I couldn't even tell you what the seven meats were, except I know bologna was one of them because I asked her to take that off for obvious reasons. What is bologna, anyways? Jury's still out on that one.

So, when the bell tolled in my stomach and I needed that midnight snack, you can imagine my disappointment. Ask my roommates. I was pissed! I wanted that hoagie so freakin' badly that I literally screamed in rage. I'm talking about a scream that was on par with Darth Vader at the end of Star Wars: Episode III. Except I didn't find out my wife died; I found out my sandwich died. Way more devastating.

The stolen sandwich was easily the lowest point of my night. Then I realized that my charger was also in the bag. That's kind of a bummer especially because new chargers cost $80. Talk about a monopolized product. Hopefully Craigslist comes through because I'd hate to have to buy a new one.

My favorite coffee mug and a few other pins were on the outside as well. Not to mention the bag itself had sentimental value, and now I have to lug my gigantic Kelty traveling/hiking backpack to class everyday. That's just plain obnoxious. Seriously, whatever bum stole my bag can do themselves a favor and just put the bag back where they found it. You can have the sandwich. I just want the other stuff back.

I also found out Monday morning that my wallet was in the bag, so now I'll have to jump through a whole bunch of hoops to replace ID cards, credit cards and what not. More information on those excursions as they unfold.

For now I'm bagless, walletless and sandwichless. And some one is walking around Eugene with a belly full of Destroyer and a wallet with a bunch of cancelled credit cards. Congratulations, you're now ten dollars and six sandwiches away from a free foot-long at the Sub Shop. Have fun with the cancelled credit cards and IDs that will only be useful if you happen to be a 5'10", glasses-wearing, bearded ginger.

Thief, if you're reading this, please return my bag and restore the balance of justice to the world. That's not too much to ask, is it?