Man Posts Epic Craigslist Missed Connection for Girl Who Held His iPhone Hostage

halloween iphone.jpg
The Lower East Side can be hellish on weekends, sure. Sometimes it can be really hellish, especially on Halloween, when some teenager holds your iPhone hostage and the night degenerates into an almost-brawl in a pizza parlor in which your friends are chasing the girl around, calling her a bitch, and your "really nice Tommy Hilfiger wallet" gets stolen and you have to call the police.

The above is the experience of some guy who then posted the whole thing to Craigslist Missed Connections for "The girl who held my iPhone for ransom in a pizzeria last night." Reposting in its entirety:

I first spoke to you on my girlfriend's phone, Halloween night, 2011. I don't know how it happened but somehow, my iPhone had slipped out of my back pocket and was missing. I'd noticed this, sitting in the back of The Skinny on Orchard and Stanton, and had immediately sprinted back to Pianos, thinking that I might've left my phone by the upstairs bar. You answered my phone after many a frantically-placed call, made from my girlfriend's phone, and informed me that you were in a cab but you could come back to where I was to return my phone. You also informed me that my mother had called my phone and, upon learning that you had it and were in a taxi headed back to where I was, had offered to pick up the fare. You then hinted, much less subtly, that you expected further "compensation," as you put it. I assented to the idea, reasoning that whatever small bit of cash I had on me was worth the safe return of my iPhone.

I walked to the corner of Orchard and Houston to meet you and you arrived after no more than a couple of minutes which, at the time, I thought a bit odd, seeing as you'd been in a cab headed uptown. When I first saw you, you appeared to be a girl of only eighteen or nineteen, wearing a long, curly, brunette ponytail, a tight, black hoodie with brightly-colored stars, and tight, lightly-washed boot-cut jeans with a black, studded belt, an outfit too genuine in its stereotypical urban adolescence to be a Halloween costume. You were with two friends, a short girl and a tall, chubby girl, who were wearing rough variants of the same outfit. You asked if I was "the one with the phone." I said that I was, indeed the person who'd lost his phone and procured my wallet, offering you every one of the six dollars, therein. In a shrill, harsh, loud Queens accent, you demanded twenty.

I suppose in retrospect, it was a bit "Larry David-esque" of me to be so taken aback by your poor-taste, gauche proposal, but I reasoned that giving you literally all of the cash on my person was enough to warrant the return of my iPhone--that, you know, you'd "do the right thing," so to speak. Furthermore, I reckoned your alleged cab ride hadn't cost all that much, seeing as you'd arrived no more than two minutes after answering my call. You told (not asked) me to go to an ATM. I declined and asked again that you return my phone, simultaneously offering you the six dollars in my wallet and explicating my lack of hesitancy in involving New York's finest. Myriad onlookers and homeless men gathered around as we argued; some people took videos on their phones. You started to walk away and I began walking towards you, intending to retrieve the now-pilfered phone. You and your friends screamed more than a few choruses of "DON'T FUCKING TOUCH ME/HER." I hadn't touched you; we were on a crowded New York street, standing directly in front of a pizzeria with a huge, clear front window and half a dozen patrons inside.

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