Okay, it was dusk, but it’s Daylight Savings Time for god’s sake, and the lights of the Roxie marquee light up this block just as well as the sun does.
In any case, a mid-30s-ish bike thief with a chinstrap-ish mustache, caucasian, crouched down by a locked bike, snapped the cable lock with a totally surreptitious tool, and sped off before my mildly buzzed happy hour companion was able to put two and two together.
And this was all also in full view of the vigilant crew in the Roxie box office, but, again, the thief worked so fast and cool that nobody noticed. It took seeing the broken lock left behind on the sidewalk for my friend to give any thought to what had happened.
A.) We know, you use a cable lock, it’s your own fault. B.) Still, bike thieves in this city are good — they’re like ninjas — so don’t get too comfortable, even if you have a proper lock. C.) Keep your eyes peeled and your minds sharp! As soon as my friend said, “Hey, why did that guy leave his lock, on the ground?” I shot up, yelled “BIKE THIEF,” ran outside, but it was too late. A few seconds sooner, we might’ve had a collar. (Or at least a better blog post.)
The free crepes at Dalva (with grilled onions, grilled mushrooms, feta and olive) were hell of good though.