I was sitting waiting for the bus over at the first stop where the M8 begins its journey east and this teenage thug-in-training runs in from my right, hits me in the chest—takes my phone, I forgot to mention that—and keeps running toward the river and disappears around the corner. I was like, "Wha...? [Expletive] you!"
The guy waiting for the bus with me said, "You gotta report it," so when the bus came, I didn't get on. Instead, I waited for the police cruiser and we drove around the park; the officer said they'd had a lot of luck doing that lately. I had only seen the kid's back as he ran away, so we were looking for a pink (?) T-shirt. I have no idea if he stripped off the shirt as he ran away, but my guess is he didn't. In any event, we didn't find him.
The man waiting for the bus with me let me use his phone to call 911 ("You gotta report this," he said) and some officers from the 6th Precinct picked me up. I hadn't seen the guy's face, only the back of his T-shirt (pink,) but we cruised around the park before we gave up.
It's crazy; I don't understand what the kid wanted with my phone, but I guess they were taking anything they could get their hands on in hopes it was an iPhone. (Supposedly there's been a rash of robberies like this lately in the West Village.) As soon as I got the chance, I reported it stolen to my phone company and it was blocked--stupid kid.
The Sixth Precinct has been great in all of this--efficient and professional. Wonder what they're like when a real crime occurs--but I don't wanna go there.