Ah, Paris... City of Lights? Maybe. City of Crime? Heck, yes!
I was minding my own business, talking with some colleagues in the cab ride from the Charles de Gaulle airport to the hotel when all of a sudden, the window was smashed and some dude (now, nearly 12 hours later I call him "dude" but earlier he was "jerk") grabbed my bag. My beautiful black leather Chanel bag, with some of my lifelines inside: iPhone, Blackberry, iPod, wallet (with cash + cards), limited edition Emilio Pucci pen, Chanel necklace, lipstick, business cards, passport, ID card, frequent flyer cards, and the list continues (unfortunately).
I was stunned, shocked and literally speechless. It wasn't until my friend kept shouting to the cab driver to call the police did I actually realize what had happened. I swear, when the window was smashed, I actually thought I was being shot at, and I didn't even realize my bag was gone.
After the shock came anger. It was like I was on an anger high or something, I couldn't stop being so upset at the stupid dude who took my stuff. I hadn't felt anger like that in a very long time.
Then, came sadness. I was so overwhelmed by sadness that I had lost some of the things I really (really) loved and depended on (i.e. Blackberry for tweeting and iPhone for all my games) that I kept crying and crying until my eyes felt like they were burning. Of course, while I was at the police station, I kept my cool, but as soon as I checked into the hotel, I cried buckets.
Now, after all that, what's left of me is wonder. I can't stop to wonder and ask so many questions: why did he need money so much that he would go to the lengths of committing a crime to get it? Why did it happen to me? Why didn't I keep my bag under my leg or something? Why didn't I see him coming? Why didn't the cab driver see him coming? Why can't the police catch him? What am I going to do with no money? How can I get back all the numbers and info I had in my phones? What happens after this?
Honestly, even though it's a long shot, but I have been telling myself that the guy needed an operation or needed to pay for college or something that cost a lot of money that he didn't have so he resorted to stealing. Somehow, this way of thinking helps me "forgive" - even though it's still nowhere close to being easy to do.
So they say that everything happens for a reason. I really, really, wonder what the reason is for this one. Seriously.