An Open Letter to whomever took my Cell Phone

To whomever took my cell phone-

I realize I'm the idiot that left my cell phone in a public bathroom this past Saturday, but STILL... you don't have to be a jerk by not turning it in. It clearly states "Verizon Wireless" on the front. You could still do the right thing and drop it off at a Verizon Wireless store. Or you could have turned it into management at Chipotle, where I left it. But so far, neither of those things have happened because I've checked with both establishments several times already.

Now, I have no emotional attachment to that phone. In fact, I hated it and couldn't wait to get another one. It was slow to recognize my finger taps and the camera stopped working nearly a year ago. I even brought it back to Verizon Wireless. They told me I could have traded it in for a brand new one, but I didn't. You know why? Because I had an emotional attachment to the contents *within* that phone. That phone holds HISTORY. History that I can no longer relive at a moment's notice...

I got that phone on August 1, 2008. I didn't know it at the time, but it was just days before my friend, Rasha, would be hit by a car while riding her bike in Manhattan. One of the very first texts that phone contained was the message alerting us of the accident and where to visit her at the hospital. She was still alive when I got that text. That is no longer the case. She died just days later. When I found out about her death, I took the call - on that cell phone. I remember collapsing on the floor in my bedroom apartment as my friend Erin told me that Rasha didn't make it. I will never forget that moment.

Later that month, when it was my birthday, my friends texted me all sorts of happy birthday messages. Many which were heartfelt and beautiful. I saved them so I could read them again and again.

But I can't read them anymore.

And when I was doing everything I could to help Josue (Rasha's boyfriend) get through that unbelievably difficult time, he sent me text messages telling me how much he loved me, calling me 'angel' and thanking me. I saved those too.

But they only exist in my memory now.

That November, when our country made history by electing the first biracial man into the office of President, I received a ton of amazed and patriotic text messages from my friends who shared my enthusiasm. I saved most of them.

But I can't relive that moment, because I will never see them again.

Over the next year, as my friends would send me photo messages, I always saved their photos. And sometimes when I had a few moments to kill on the subway, I'd scroll through the photos and relive the memories associated with them.

But I'll never see those photos again.

Last May, when I rode my bike for 10 hours in the rain for the 5 Boro Bike Tour, I received so many supportive messages from my friends telling me to stick it out in the rain, reminding me that I can do it. I saved those messages because it meant so much to me that they believed in me.

But I'll never read them again.

And when I texted people to tell them I had actually completed the 42+ miles on that grueling day, I got quite a few congratulatory messages from people who were so proud of me. I kept those messages too, and re-reading them always filled me with a sense of pride and accomplishment.

But I'll never see them again either.

Then, in September, when I ran my first 5K, and my punk rope instructor (a former runner) texted me to congratulate me and told me I'm "officially a runner", that was a big moment for me. And I kept that message.

But I will never see it again.

So, yes, I know that it was my fault for being careless with that phone. But what are you going to do with it if you keep it? You didn't use it to make calls, send texts or even go online (I checked my account. There was no activity between the time I lost it and the time I had it turned off). I can only imagine you read through my texts and looked at my photos. But now that you are done with that fun, what's left? How is keeping that phone going to help you? Wouldn't you want to do a good deed and turn it in?

I always tell people if they drop something or leave something behind on the train (I chased a man down last week to give him a hat. A hat!) I've turned in cell phones and wallets (without even glancing at the cash). Heck, once I even found and returned a DOG!

You know why?

Because those things are NOT MINE. They do NOT belong to me and I had no right, and no desire, to keep them. I wanted them to have a happy ending. I wanted them to be returned to their rightful owner. I knew someone else had a use for them and would be missing them. And I guess somewhere I hoped that because I did the right thing, someone else might do the right thing if I were in a similar situation.

But you proved it just doesn't work that way.

So have fun with my paperweight/cell phone (I'm sure the battery is dead by now), assuming you haven't destroyed it already.

I realize this is trivial compared to other things, but I just don't understand why people can't be civil and considerate to each other. The world would truly be a better place.

I only hope that at some point you reflect upon what you've done, realize it was wrong and change your ways.

Sincerely
*Bitch Cakes*