THE story of the stolen passport.

FLASHBACK ENTRY:
April 7, 2007
Today I was that person. You know the person that everyone hears stories about, but never thinks that it will actually be them. We had just arrived in Rome after taking a day trip to Pisa, and got off the train feeling an urgent need to locate a bathroom. Take note that I am not using the word urgent lightly here. We followed the signs downstairs to a bathroom, and one of the girls I was traveling with stayed in the hallway to watch our bags while we sped towards the entrance. When we got there we were greeted by a toll to get into the bathroom- 70 cents. In my head I'm thinking "YOU HAVE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME," I'm very stingy and didn't feel like giving away my precious and increasingly limited money to use a toilet. We turned around and sped back to where our bags were, grabbed them and left to venture upstairs to use the McDonald's bathroom, which was FREE. We got upstairs and were in sight of the McDonalds when I reached around to feel my bare back. I stopped dead in my tracks. WHERE IS MY BACKPACK?! I panicked. Inside that bag was my life including passport, train tickets, flight confirmations, shot record, birth card: EVERYTHING. I turned and started running back and retracing our path back towards the downstairs bathroom. Samantha, who thank goodness spoke some italian, came running up behind me, and we both searched the hallways endlessly. No sign of my backpack. We split up. About twenty minutes later: nothing. This is when I broke down. Yes in the middle of the underground, I started sobbing. Flashing through my mind was, what is the quickest way I can get the next flight back the the US. Then I reminded myself that I have no idea where the US consulate is and it was nearing 10pm so it was probably closed. This thought made me cry some more. Samantha and I made our way back upstairs, and luckily Samantha wasn't as defeated as I was. She asked someone where the lost and found was, and luckily the guy pointed us in the direction of the police station. This was probably the closest I've ever felt to God because at that moment a plain clothed officer standing outside the office said to me "Katherine?" He was holding my passport. Overjoyed I walked into the office and another plain clothed officer was sitting there with the contents of my backpack spread out in front of him. I couldnt' speak I was sobbing with tears of happiness. Samantha had to answer my questions for me. Finally after we got across the point that nothing was missing, one of the officers went into the back room and handcuffed the thief. Then the plain clothed officers, who must have been undercover cops escorted me and Samantha to their office...which was about a mile away on the other side of the train station. When we got there, I realized that I had forgotten to go to the bathroom in all the the frenzy and I was pretty much about the pee in my pants. I quickly located a FREE bathroom in the police office, and thought to myself that this situation might not have been so bad after all- it did save me 70 cents. All in all I spent about an hour in the police office as they tried to question me and estimate the value of everything in my backpack. The communication barrier might have jumbled up whatever they were writing in the report, but they did give me a copy of it. I can't wait to find someone who speaks Italian so they can translate it for me. The whole time the guy was writing it, there were about 5 other officers looking over his shoulder, some laughing some making suggestions. It wasn't until after everything was printed out and signed that the one female officer asked us IN ENGLISH if we knew how to get to our hostel... I'm guessing that I was the butt of about every joke imaginable over that past hour. Anyway we left, and I kept my passport glued to me for the duration of our trip... LESSON LEARNED.