Wherein My Purse Was Stolen In New York City

by Debbie Ferm

Hello there! If you are new here, you might want to subscribe to the RSS feed for updates on this topic.

Thank You, New York City Police Department

As I sat in the waiting area of Precinct 17 of the NYPD, I had a strong feeling that I had been dropped right in the middle of a TV show. Everything was exactly as it appeared on TV. The people drifting in and out from the street, the sounds of several languages, the chatty little lady at the front desk, and the big, Irish detective that took the report of the stolen purse.

I had planned on visiting touristy spots that day, not spending it with New York’s finest. But, it was so interesting, and the staff so efficient and friendly, that it was almost worth having my purse stolen.

Almost.

The hunky fireman I ran into next door didn’t hurt either.

How a Scammy Stealer Stole My Purse, and I Got Blamed For It

I was in New York in June to attend TBEX, a conference where travel bloggers congregate to drink beer and compare how many countries they’ve been to, when the purse stealing occurred. I was having lunch with Sharlene, a fellow family travel blogger at trekaroo, and JUST as we were about to leave, we stood up and noticed.

No purse.

And because I had taken a pen out of the purse not 3 minutes before, I knew instantly that it had walked away.

—————————————

I know what you’re thinking. Where was the purse? I know that’s what you’re thinking, because every single person I’ve told has asked that question. Where was the purse? Half question, half accusation.

The purse was on the back of my chair. I’ve said it. I left my purse on the back of my chair in New York City, therefore, I deserved to have it stolen. It’s amazing I even found my way home after doing something that stupid.

You laugh, but that is the reaction I’ve gotten from everyone!

I was the victim of a crime, and yet somehow, it was my fault. But I digress…

—————————————

After searching the small, safe, uncrowded restaurant (see not my fault) to see if it had been ditched in there, we walked around the immediate area to see if it had been abandoned in a garbage can, but to no avail. The purse was gone.

I was in New York for two more days, and I had 73 cents in my pocket. And of course it was Sunday. Oy.

I am forever in debt to my fellow travel bloggers, who saved my butt that weekend, and I learned a few valuable tidbits which I think will come in handy if you are ever so stupid as to let your purse get stolen. And it goes a little something like this…

Things To Do Before You Leave Home

1. Make a copy of your drivers license and/or passport to keep somewhere other than your purse.

2. Keep some extra cash or a debit/credit card in the safe in your hotel room. Use it in an emergency only.

3. Clean out your purse of any unnecessary items. The less that’s in there, the less you have to lose. This goes for checkbooks and credit cards as well.

Yes. You do have to file a police report.

At first I wasn’t even going to file a police report. In a city with nightly murders, I didn’t want to waste their time with a lost cause. But when I called the airline to find out what I needed to do to get home with no ID, they told me I would need to produce a police report.

You’ll also need a police report to get a driver’s license with a new number, and I’m guessing it would come in handy if you need another copy of your passport, social security card, etc.

Contact the airline ahead of time to be certain of what you will need. I found that I needed a receipt from the hotel I stayed at while I was in New York.

The NYPD is Awesome

Everyone at the police department was speedy and helpful. I can’t tell you how impressed I was. I mean, it’s the government for God’s sake. I expected a lot of waiting around, and the usual BS, but I got service with a smile, and was on my way. If you are going to get your purse stolen, I recommend New York.

Sun Country Airlines will care more that you didn’t get to the airport early enough, than if you are who you say you are. Or that you were a victim of a crime.

I arrived at the airport, police report in hand, about an hour and a half before my flight back to Minneapolis. After listening to the tale of the stolen purse, the counter attendant made a phone call to her supervisor. The only thing she said to me after hanging up was, “We’re going to let you through, but we aren’t responsible if you don’t make your flight. You should have been here earlier.”

That was it. Their biggest concern.

Not, “I wonder if this person is really Debbie Ferm”, or “Gee, I’m sorry some rat bastard stole your purse.”

Nope.

The fact that two customer service representatives were standing there chatting aimlessly at an empty counter when I walked up was not lost on me. They could have helped me, but they chose not to.

But you know who did?

The TSA.

Yes, the usual purveyors of misery at the security checkpoint heard about the rudeness of the Sun Country people, and assured me they would get me on that flight. They screened my bags, wanded me, and made a phone call to verify my identity. It took about 12 minutes. After handing my my boarding pass, they called the gate to tell them I was on my way. Thank you, TSA!

I sat on that plane for 35 minutes before it took off.

Thanks for nothing, Sun Country Airlines.

You will never see your purse again.

Grieve if you must, but let it go. I loved my purse. I’m a purse addict. But I knew it wasn’t coming back. Nor was my birthday gift wallet, the driver’s license with the good haircut picture, or my brand new Motorola Droid. I had just entered the 20th century with that Droid, but it was back to the dark ages for me. Back to the old phone that my kids are ashamed to be seen with.

A New York City detective called me a few days later to verify a few things, and before he hung up he said, “From now on, the purse goes in the lap, not on the back of the chair.”

“Got it, Detective.”

*image by Moto@club4AG