|Santa's got a black belt|
This bicycle thief is a pro. Pier 39 is a busy place. The thief had to have a focused plan and execute it flawlessly- that plan was to steal my locked up bike. Lovely. Truly. This thief had to have self restraint and determination, a focused intention- the other bikes next to mine were untouched: lights and even helmets and other accessories were left for someone else's heist. Go figure. Take the locked up bike. Nice. So, well done bike thief. I take my helmet off to you. Good work, @$$hole. I hope a car finds you in the best possible way.
I think I started burning the nice note a little prematurely there. But anyway, that counts for the year's nice points. I gave a genuine, heartfelt compliment to the jerk for his work. Sure, I burned said compliment and threw it out in front of oncoming traffic... but you can't escape the fact that it was a good job. The thief got the bike... and hopefully a car door, too.
I'd be a little less jostled if the bike wasn't a primary mode of transportation. Elevating this situation to the next level, I'd argue that the thief stole my life. Granted, I still have my two feet... which I made sure to murder outright by running across Costa Rica.... so I'm a bit handicapped at the moment. I've been thinking of alternative modes of transportation like utilizing the very limited bus system, but the weekend schedule is more crippled than my feet. I went so far as to consider roller-blades. Yeah. That's right. Roller-blades. The thought just screams desperate. I need to figure out where to go from here and how I'll get there. It's going to be a painful journey in every possible way. One foot in front of the other, one step at a time... and bike thief's beware, the wheels are turning.