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Written By Andrew Bucket

If I lose this iPhone, then that’s it. I just used an upgrade that I waited for three years. I don’t have another one! Also, I walk dogs by day and do stand up comedy by night– it’s a living that I love, but the freedom to hammer drinks with comics and maybe chat up a girl who likes my Netflix bit after a show, and wake up at noon to hang out with dogs comes with the caveat that I can’t just go get a new iPhone any old time I want.

So on Friday night, when I was texting at 18th and Colombia, and a thief snatched this $600 thing out of my dinner-drunk hands– I gave chase! I yelled a slew of embarrassing Dad-isms like “Get back here!” and “How dare you!” and even a very primal “NO!”
I had been out for my mothers birthday and OF COURSE I shared appetizers with my sister, I fucking love appetizers, and then, yeah OF COURSE I got cheesecake for dessert– I watch Golden Girls! I love cheesecake! What is there, a war on? I’m going for it baby.
But holy shit, this kid was fast. He put 20 yards between us in a matter of seconds. I was full of cake, appys, booze, espresso–yeesh.


I remember wondering when that miracle adrenaline would come over me, like those 4-year-olds that lift fallen trees to free their mommies. No such luck.


Also, the thief’s friend is chasing behind me trying to trip me! This is common apparently, if the victim chases the snatcher, for a second person to trip them and give the thief a smooth getaway.
I chased him through the middle of the street, and over the tops of cars I saw people on the sidewalk, so I yell out over and over a call for help:




I didn’t expect much, I mean, we’re all mere citizens. I’m not afraid to throw a punch, but I’ve never had such a violent disorder as to practice some method of fighting in my spare time. So even if I did apprehend this fiend, the likelihood is that he would be more apt at fisticuffs than this lowly funny man.
But holy shit, almost instantly, as if a there was a mind meld of people who’ve been snatched of their phones before, and had been waiting for some brand of justice– seven people came into the street and like a defensive backfield, they started playing zone, and the thief did his best to dart around each of them.


To the right was a man in flip flops with his dog (one of the first jokes I told on stage was “The guy who wears flip flops in public has decided that morning that he won’t be a hero,” well, I stand corrected.), another three guys in the street boxed the thief in, but he slipped past and went between two tightly parked cars. I thought it was game over and that he’d escape up the sidewalk, but no.


A young woman stepped out from the darkness and struck the thief in the side with a heavy scooter lock chain, stunning him, and giving the rest of us time to close in.


The phone fell from his hands, and a brief scuffle to subdue him was unsuccessful. He, and his accomplice, took off into the alleys.


But the group of us strangers stood in the street panting, and totally jacked with adrenaline, high-fived like a 9-year-old championship team tee-ball squad.


These brave and dutiful citizens rose to the call, and where the less heroic may have stood by as my phone disappeared into the night, they banded together and preserved my ability to text girls “where you at?” in the wee hours, and post inebriated Vines and Instagrams.


For this I owe them a drink, so if you think you’re on of the Samaritans of last Friday night, please email me: [email protected]


As Bill and/or Ted tell us: Be Excellent To Each Other.