"I'd take a bullet for my Coach purse."

When social events go wrong (terribly, terribly wrong), I feel it's best to find the silver lining. After last night, we found more than that: we came home with a gift card unused, laughter, justice, and a whole slew of friends who go by the name of, oh you know, just the "City Police."


My roommate, Future Lawyer, and I decided to celebrate the close of our summer in the city by treating ourselves to a nice dinner and some sangria in a boutique part of town. (Thanks to restaurants.com, I had a prime gift certificate for $25 that I paid $2 for -- check it out.) Since it was a nice evening, we chose a table on the narrow, but gated, patio outside. Finished with appetizers and our first round of sangria long-gone, we started to order dinner. All of a sudden, before I knew what was happening, a guy ran up behind Future Lawyer, reached over the guard rail, and started to grab her Coach purse off the table. Realizing what was happening, she jumped up and tried to wrench it back, but he pushed her arm away and the strap broke...the thief still had the goods.

While I sat there stunned and began yelling, Future Lawyer *JUMPS THE FENCE* and starts running after him. Screaming bloody murder. I mean... in case her law career doesn't work out right away, she should really tap into the thriller industry. Because those sound bites are gold. And lemme tell you why. Not only did Future Lawyer's incessant and blood-curdling screams draw a crowd of bystanders, she summoned a squad car from a neighboring block.

So Future Lawyer is chasing this creep down a wide alley across from the restaurant (still in shock over that...what if he had a gun?! hell, even a butter knife and I'd back down.) meanwhile screaming "HELLLLP MEEE!! COME BAAAACK!!" (of which I got a big kick out of: "Sure lady, I'll come back. (hands back Coach). Truce??"). All sudden a cop car comes racing around the corner in the direction of her screams. Seeing it coming, Future Lawyer waves them down to where the creepo turned the corner, stopped short by an apartment building. The scene was in perfect view the whole time, but having explained to the restaurant manager what had happened, I crossed the street to stand by F.L. as the cops cuffed the jerkface. One officer approached the two of us, asking us to verify what happened as they shoved him in back of the squad car. The officer's hand was bleeding from the apprehension, and when F.L. explained what happened, he "suggested" we amend the story so that the theif had pushed her as well -- "because this guy needs to do time." No need for suggestion -- when she tried to wrench back the purse, he indeed had pushed her wrist. At hearing this, the officer -- no joke -- did a fist pump and shouted "YEAH!" (grown man.)
Later we found out that move would seal Creepo's fate: because he used force, it became the highest form of a robbery/felony.

With another show of bravado, F.L. walked by the cop car, saw Creepo in the backseat, and stated some rather choice words, accompanied with the appropriate hand gesture. If this girl's like this on the street, can you imagine her in the court room?! Now that's the kind of business law representation I want. Serious balls.

My later-to-be Favorite officer emerged from the bushes with the Coach, slightly worse for wear but its contents still in tact. Still trying to control our shaking, F.L. and I looked behind us to the street, and to our surprise saw four more squad cars and about 10 officers, all in bullet proof vests. The officers getting in the car with Creepo started laughing and whooping with delight (read: like four year olds at a bday party getting their goody bags) that he had been apprehended. F.L. and I got thrown in the back of a police Escalade and started barrelling down streets with the sirens on, disregarding stop lights and speed bumbs as we entered the police cavalcade towards the station. Now that everyone was safe and it turned out all right, F.L. and I turned to each other and could not stop laughing...

Why don't cameras follow us?!!

We arrived at the the City Police Station, and as our driver escorted us in, an officer walking out greeted him with, "Hey, Sarge." As in...Sargeant. As in...we were in the City Police Force Sargeant's 'Scalade. As in....we're FAMOUS.

Once in the station, we were escorted to the waiting room (where there were an abundance of stains on the seats and the floors...I'm sure Martha could have had a field day had she done time in this particular facility). Because of F.L.'s show of bravery and her potent screams, we were quickly becoming the most talked about thing in the station, and every five minutes or so, a different officer would nonchalantly walk by the waiting room, see us, and turn around.
THREE HOURS LATER...we had gotten interviewed, we waited. The purse contents were photographed and evidenced, we waited. The detective informed us the perpetrator's story was that he had been "provoked" to stealing the purse because we called him the N word (I mean, we're from Bubble outside the City. That word would never leave our lips), we waited. F.L. signed a statement, we waited. We were offered an award from the police department by My Favorite officer, obviously we accepted, we waited.

Finally, everything said and done, My Favorite came around the corner and said we were free to go. Not wanting to take public transportation, we asked for a ride. Preferrably in a squad car. With lights. My Favorite said he was on it, turned the corner, and five minutes later brought back two uniformed officers that were "His Guys." As His Guys got out the keys, My Favorite shook our hands and said, 'Ladies, it was a pleasure. Let's do this again, but under different circumstances.' Sigh. I'm such a sucker for nice people with a title. As His Guys led us out the door, My Favorite called after them: "Take care of my beauties!" Mmmm...Total crush.

Safely back home thanks to our police escort (first and last time I ever hope to ride in the *back seat* of a squad car), we rode the elevator upstairs, poured ourselves a large glass of wine, and thanked our lucky stars our (eventful) lives had not been compromised.

Note to self: Always scream. CARRY CAMERA.