(Warning: contains even more gratuitous swearing than usual.)

So I had my wallet stolen out of my locker at the gym yesterday. I came back to my locker, and after opening my combination lock, the combo part fell right off of the hook part. I thought that was pretty strange, that my cheap-ass lock had come apart after only about two months of use, but I didn't think too much of it. I put my stuff in my pockets and then realized: wait a minute, my wallet's not in my pocket and it's not in my locker. Fuck! Upon further inspection, it was clear that the lock had been tampered with, and the locker itself showed signs of foul play as well.

So I filled out an incident report, came home, cancelled all my cards, and then I called the LAPD. I know I'm never going to get anything back, but I figured in case of any identity theft issues, I should at least have a report on record. After navigating a labyrinthine touch-tone system (and having "You have selected 'regicide': if you know the name of the king or queen being murdered, press one" flashbacks) I talked to a cop at the downtown station who told me I'd have to come in to file a report.

Since I was headed to work, he said the downtown station would be best, and then explained to me where it is. He said 250 East 6th, and also said 6th and Wall. Not being familiar with Wall, I asked where it was in relation to Grand, where I work. He said two blocks east. I was skeptical, but I went along with it.

Checking out the map above, you'll see where the station is by the red star. Grand is the diagonal avenue that runs through where the "t" is in "W 6th St". Not, by any definition, two blocks. Now, referring again to the map, look at 5th Street between Broadway and San Pedro. This would be the heart of world-famous Skid Row.

What I'm trying to figure out here is, why exactly does the LAPD encourage victims of property crimes to stroll through an area designed to perpetuate additional property crimes?

But anyway, I filled out the stupid report, walked the dozen blocks back to work, and just generally started trying to pick up the pieces of what I'd lost.

Two things really bug me, though:
1. I just know that three days from now, or a week from now, I'll figure out something that was in there that I've forgotten about and I'll just scream, "Motherfucker" wherever I happen to be. Hopefully this will happen on the bus and no one will think anything of it, but that's an entry for another day.
2. I'm actually grateful toward the asshole for not also taking my car keys (and, by extension, my car).

I'm glad I know better, but this is the type of thing that make people go Republican...