Let me preface this story by saying it has a happy but puzzling ending.
I got bookjacked last night. It was about 9 o’clock in the parking lot of Bellis Fair Mall. The book was Paul Fussell’s The Great War and Modern Memory. I had just bought it at the local Barnes & Noble along with another Fussell book, then stopped into the mall to get the food court Indian restaurant’s spinach dish.
The book was with me because I usually bring a book when I dine alone. After, when I got out to the mall parking lot, it seemed a good idea to walk around a bit before going home. A corner of the parking lot was hosting one of those movable mini fairs. This particular mini fair had a booth featuring the quarter/token game, where you aim the coin down a long chute and try to place it expertly enough to push the mass of coins and prizes toward you and over the edge when the sweeper comes forward.
One pair of fuzzy handcuffs was precariously perched, so I got $5 in tokens and circled the games to see if that was the best bet. I was half-way around the booth when someone snatched the book out of my hand and took off running.
Now, take a moment to savor my utter confusion here. Some guy had just stolen a book, from my hand, and taken off with it.
My first thought was, roughly, “Did that just happen?” Then: “I can’t believe that just happened!” Then: “Is this part of some elaborate scheme to steal something other than my book, because… who does that?” Then: “How would I feel about a society in which people cared enough about books that they went around snatching them out of people’s hands?” Then: “I just bought that book! He’s not making off with $20.”
It was my friend, the very mischievous local radio station manager and talk show host Dillon Honcoop and his wife Tiffany. She had been standing next to me the whole time but my attention was diverted. Dillon told me he had seen some guy walking around a fair with a book on World War I in his hand, saw that it was me, and just couldn’t resist. Tiffany told me I should have seen the shocked/puzzled/angry look on my own face when he made off with it. I’ll bet.
Oh, and I did win that pair of fuzzy handcuffs.