This year, I celebrated my birthday by chasing my backpack!

Don’t worry, I also had a party and brunch over the weekend.

I left my backpack on the bench and got on the 5:50 northbound train. Grasping my empty shoulders, I found out only after the train started moving.

At the next station, I took the 6:16 southbound train back. As I eyed the bags of others, I slowly realized someone had taken my backpack!

Fortunately, I had a tracker tag on my backpack. Unfortunately, that tracker tag was moving! In a light panic, I called my nearby friend for help.

My friend pulled up and helped me center myself.

“The backpack has my work laptop and my wallet.”

“You shouldn’t risk the danger of confronting the person yourself. First, we should call 911.”

We called 911. The 911 operator told us we should not have called 911. Just this once, though, the operator connected us with the local police.

“I think the police have more to deal with and probably won’t get my backpack back.”

We paused. We weighed.

“Oh, the tag moved to Palo Alto Station.”

Change of plans - my friend started driving to the tag’s location.

“So what’s your plan? I’m not letting you go in without a plan.”

“I’ll try to judge the person with my backpack, and talk to them?”

“What if they pull out a weapon?”

“I’ll back off, of course.”

“Yes, but…”

We got to Palo Alto Station. Once again, I eyed the bags of others. The backpack on the person sitting in front of the buses looks like mine.

I walked behind the person, looking for the distinctive style of zipper. Yep. Mine.

I called my friend in urgent whisper.

“I see my backpack. I see the person with my backpack.”

“Where are you?”

“The bus bay behind the train station.”

“The police are coming. I updated them.”

“What if the person leaves before the police comes?”

“Get on the same bus?”

“Can you come over, in case I want to confront the person?”

“… Ok.”

As if on cue, a police car pulls up.

“Are you (not-quite-an-expert)?”

“Yes. I know who has my backpack. That person over there.”

“Can you prove it’s your backpack?”

“I can make it ring.”

“Ok, we’ll get your backpack back.”

When I pressed the button to ring, we of Palo Alto Station entered the weirdest play of my life.

Starring the person with my backpack as Good Samaritan Who Just Wants To Return This Random Backpack To Their Rightful Owner (And Definitely Didn’t Put Their Stuff In It Because They Were Going To Keep It).

And not-quite-an-expert as Oblivious Pedestrian Who Definitely Believes That.

My friend arrived just in time to support me as Sure! Yeah! Sure! I Believe That Too.

And the officers as Ugh, I Have 15 More Calls To Respond To.

One short multi-fake conversation later, I had my backpack on my shoulders again, with no major escalation.

Happy birthday to me!