Don�t expect any help from the NYPD

13 April 2004 ~ 23:17

We went down on the Acela Express train, which was very nice and comfortable and only three-and-a-half hours from Boston to New York, so the day started out promising. Things started to go wrong when we arrived in NY.

I had arranged to meet an internet friend at the hotel at three-thirty, but when we arrived there was no message from her and she still had not shown or left a message at 4 pm, so we decided to let my mum go exploring without us, in the capable company of Mark�s mom and sister Tanya. Mark and I waited a further half-an-hour and then decided not to waste any more time.

We went out and did a little shopping. I bought a skirt and some new jeans for Mark and then we headed off to Central Park where we fed the squirrels. It really was a great pity we couldn�t have done things all together and I vowed never to arrange to meet people from the �net again.

We met up in the hotel restaurant around 8 o�clock and we found out that the others had had a great time�seeing Times Square, The Empire State Building, etc. So we had dinner then went back to our rooms to relax.

Monday was the worst day. We set out to find a place for breakfast and happened on a place called Smiths Bar & Restaurant. We sat down at a table for four thinking we could add an extra chair on the end, but the waiter moved us to another table that sat five.

Meanwhile, I must have left my handbag at the first table, but I didn�t realise until we came to pay and it was not there. An old guy that had been folding napkins said he�d seen someone enter and go out again without buying anything, and he thought he�d probably taken my bag.

I was frantic. In my bag were, among other things, my British Passport, $130 cash, my credit and debit cards, my annual travel ticket for London, my glasses and my mobile phone. My camera was also in there and, lost along with it, were my pictures of the Central Park squirrels.

We spent the next fifteen minutes frantically searching trashcans around the restaurant and talking to street cleaners hoping whoever had stolen the bag had just taken the money and dumped the bag.

We called the police from the hotel who came to take a statement. They took me to the Midtown South precinct and the others followed. However, the unhelpful police refused to file a report or give me a crime reference, because there had been a passport in the bag. The excuse given was �because of 9/11.� Is this to be used as an excuse for every bit of bureaucracy from now until the end of time? They said I had to get proof of ID from the �English Consulate� (there is no such thing, only a British Consulate ), so Mark and I were forced to borrow money from his sister and take a cab right to the other end of town. Meanwhile, the others left for Penn Station because, otherwise, all five of us would have missed our train back to Boston.

So while the other three left to catch their train, Mark remained behind with me for moral support. I told him that he could leave too, to save money on another ticket that he would have to purchase, but he refused. He said that if I was stuck in New York, then so was he.

He deftly remembered the address of the British Consulate from his visit there more than three years ago, and we took a cab there. We spent more than an hour getting my emergency passport�which cost $67, I feel compelled to mention. With this in tow, we took a cab back to the Midtown South precinct.

The policewoman who served us told me that my emergency passport was no good because they could not make a photocopy of it. The reason? September the 11th! I don�t make a habit of cursing in this diary, but�for fuck�s sake! I understand the meaning of this to Americans and agree that tough measures need to be taken against terrorism, but this was just plain ridiculous.

The only way the police would give me a crime reference was if I left my emergency passport with them, or went back to the British Consulate and got an embossed letter that the police could keep, which would cost another $67 and might leave us with insufficient funds for train tickets back to Boston. For all the cash Tanya had generously given us, we still had to limit our spending. I stormed out, telling the police to stuff themselves. It was obvious they just did not care. Even the Bush administration would have shown me more sympathy than the police department did.

We went to Penn Station and bought fresh tickets for the 5 pm train. Luckily, Mark�s ticket was replaced without further cost; I only had to pay for my return. Mark forked over the $99 for the Acela Express to Boston. As Mark whetted his thirst for escapist substances by downing a beer in the station bar, I reflected dourly on the fact that my codeine pills were also in my stolen handbag�and I was jonesing for them. To make matters worse, our five o�clock train was delayed by twenty minutes. This happened to us during our previous visit to New York. What is it with Boston-bound trains from New York? Why are they always delayed?

We arrived back in Boston around 10 pm, but considering that we might very well have been in New York for another (expensive) night, that felt like a blessing. I have never been so glad to see Mark�s home city in all my life. Compared with New York City, Boston is paradise on earth.

I spent most of today calling the police precinct in New York to leave a contact number, and calling England to cancel all of my credit/debit cards. It turns out that the scumbag who stole my bag had tried to buy $300 worth of clothes on one of my cards, but it was turned down.

I am angry and frustrated at the whole experience. I know it�s wrong to take a bad experience out on an entire city, but New York seems tailor-made to make one with an honest heart hate it.

But if you insist on going to New York and get your valuables nicked, don�t ever expect the police to help you. They will act like they care. But their actions will soon prove otherwise. They love bureaucracy and the opportunity to drown you in as much of it as possible. What�s even more disgusting is that they�re gleefully using the September 11 tragedy as an excuse to lay it on even thicker. This is not only maddening but very disrespectful.

I just want to get back to London and kiss my animals and forget�inasmuch as that is possible�this whole depressing, desultory trip.


Stored nuts | Future acorns