COLUMN: Phone Stolen

I don't think I could ever pass myself off as an optimist. 

I'm a realist and I know the world isn't always sunshine and lollipops. That said, I've always stood firm in my belief that, by and large, humanity is good and kind and not a dumpster fire of nightmare people. But if there were ever a decade to disprove this theory, it might just be the 2020s. It was one month ago that I was whining in these very pages about having accidentally left my cell phone at home and struggling to survive without the warm, comforting embrace of 24/7 internet connectivity in my front pocket. I think I jinxed myself.

This past Friday night was spent in the same way mine usually are: in a DJ booth, playing records for people half my age -- people whose entire existence might very well have hinged on me having played records for their parents' hook-up decades ago. It's been my life-long hobby, and there's still few places on Earth I'd rather be than behind DJ decks staring down a packed dancefloor.

For a while that night, I was in the zone. I had a packed dancefloor, people were feeling my playlist, and it was one of those nights when songs were mixing like butter. "This crowd is awesome," I thought to myself. "I need to post a video!" 

That's when I reached for my phone and instead found myself pawing at an empty table.

My phone never leaves my side while I'm working. I usually keep it right beside the DJ controller, but it wasn't there. I checked all my pockets, checked under my coat, and looked all around. It was gone. More specifically, it had been stolen.

I should've been instantly mad. In all honesty, I was mostly just impressed. It wasn't like I'd left the phone somewhere far away. It was inches from my hand at any given moment, but it still somehow managed to grow legs and walk away. Whoever lifted that thing was good. This was a lesson learned: I needed to keep that thing in my pocket.

But I rapidly went from impressed to indignant, as soon as I saw an instant message from one of my friends pop up on my laptop. It reminded me that my laptop computer was connected to the internet, and I was hotspotting that internet signal from my cell phone. That message was proof my computer was still online, which meant my phone was still close enough to sync to my laptop. Someone on that packed dancefloor right in front of me was a phone thief. 

What could I have done? Cold stopped the music, grabbed the mic, and yelled "J'accuse!" into the open air? Stomped my foot and refused to play another song until someone ponied up the phone? There was no cool way to handle this scenario.

Instead, I stood there for another hour, fully aware that one of the people in front of me was a thief. Instead of focusing on the task at hand, I was instead trying to spot any tells or anyone giving off a guilty vibe. Eventually I glanced at my laptop and watched helplessly in real time as my wi-fi signal slowly dropped from five bars to zero as my phone was somewhere walking away from the club and into the night. 

I tried to keep the energy up for the remainder of my DJ set, but I was no longer in the zone. I was mostly just mad. The minute we closed, I was able to remotely lock and erase the phone, so congrats on your relatively worthless piece of hardware, friend. I changed all my important passwords and reported the phone stolen.    

Oh, and I almost forgot: I KNOW WHO YOU ARE. YOU'RE ON TAPE. I HAVE THE FOOTAGE. There's cameras all over that place, including directly over the DJ booth. I also don't think you planned on pilfering my phone. You were really nice when we spoke that night. But you were also pretty drunk, and I think you grabbed my phone by mistake. If that's what happened, just bring it back. Mistakes happen, especially when Funky Monkeys are involved.

If my phone's gone forever, I guess it's not a big deal. I had one payment left on that busted old phone and was planning on upgrading this month anyways. Enjoy my cracked screen and that broken button on the side. Maybe you can clear level 494 of Bricks & Balls, because I sure can't. Still, it'd sure be nice if you brought it back and proved me right that humanity is innately good. I'm not optimistic.