Some of my fondest memories from my past revolve around, theft. While being illegal can always being kind of funny. There was a point in my life where I would just take shit…well just because. Being 13 and taking a bag of skittles from the local shop mart was a bit of a thrill. Then it became taking used videotapes from Hollywood video cause I didn’t have the cash to rent anything. The only problem was, while we were getting the movies for free, the selection of films that were within the stealing grasp were what some would say, lacking in quality. While we could have just pooled our cash and rented something half-way decent, we instead opted for the snatch and run free rental of masterpieces such as “Idle Hands”. Oh Devon Sawa; what happened to thee? This kind of thing was common place back in the day, just dicking around, being little bastards. You can’t judge, we had to get our kicks somehow, I mean we had yet to discover alcohol and Xbox 360 hadn’t even been invented yet, what were we supposed to do?
After I started working and had a semi steady paycheck, casual theft took a back seat. All except the sneaking into the movies. It’s weird that I go to college for film, but hate paying to see them. But who cares? Charging $10.50 for Jackass the Movie Part 2 is fucked. The real success when sneaking into the movies is pulling the multi-feature.. The art of scampering into another theater after your initial picture show has reached it’s end. One of the greatest multi feature experiences I ever had involved Beerfest (funny when it’s free), Miami Vice (still sucks even if you don’t pay for it), and Little Miss Sunshine (a movie which I enjoyed so much I actually returned to the theater and paid to see it again), Saving righteous bucks and having a good time while doing it. Now back to the real topic, stealing stuff.
As I got older it lost its thrill. Taking shit didn’t matter much any more, I mea I had a job cause and could easily afford a pack of candy unlike my 13 year old douche bag self. I had lost the taste for one of my favorite past times. That was until my second semester in college. I had just moved to the city of Boston and enrolled at Emerson College. I had a small shitty apartment and zero money. So my parents got me on the College’s “Commuter Meal” plan. 50 all you can eat trips to the dining hall and some “EC cash” all for the low low price $700 dollars, Jesus Christ it hurts to type that. Don’t these people know how bad the economy is!?!. This is just one of the many examples of how Emerson takes money. The worst part about the whole situation is what I found out while eating this shitty dining hall food. A portion of that $700 isn’t even paying for services rendered,. Some of MY goes to simple cover OTHERS theft. I sat there thinking I’m paying for shit that gets stolen? What the fuck? I need to get my fair share then, I’m entitled to start stealing shit. Over night my apartment’s kitchen was stocked with silverware, plates, cereal, napkin dispensers, cold cuts, all of it. Fuck the grocery store, I could just my little card and walking into the cafeteria with a back pack full of Tupperware and plastic bags and go to town. What did I care, fuckin’ school with their hidden fee’s and musical theater majors and hippies and hipsters and…..I’m off topic. What I’m trying to say is for me it was a small personal bonus that I got to steal shit again and at the same time shake my fist at the school establishment. Then one night at a party I discovered a whole new type of steal which reinvigorated my love for the game.
On a Saturday night prior to going out a buddy and I decided to go out to a party. To this day, I have no idea who’s party it was or why we were there but all I know is I found myself in the kitchen of an apartment located somewhere in the Fenway neighborhood owned by someone I’d never met. Very drunk at this point I just started wonderin’ around. That was when I saw it. It stared at me with those little black eyes, like it had been expecting me all evening. I knew right then and there that I had to have it. The “it” I’m referring to was a 6 inch tall Plastic bear filled with honey. I don’t know why I needed it, I just did. I snatched it off the shelf and walked into the living room to find my friend. I was caring the bear as if it were a drink on a martini tray, balancing it ever so carefully. The honey bear had become my precious. I walked up to my friend and presented him with what I had found. He looked at it and laughed. I told him “I’m taking this little bitch”. He then said then he said, “Well are you just going to take him or are you going to make a tradsie”. He was joking but I thought, why not trade. So I went into my bag which we had packed our booze in and looked around for something to trade. After a few minutes of searching I found something. A salt shaker. I immediately ran back to the pantry where I had found my new friend and placed the salt shaker in his absent spot. There was nothing else on this self where the honey bear had been so the salt shaker stood tall like a tiny Washington Monument….if it were filled with salt.
For the rest of the night little Honey bear sat in my front shirt pocket. I don’t think I have ever had my picture taken so many times in one night. Maybe prom night but, unlike my date, the people I was in the photos with actuality we actuality excited to be in them. Who wouldn’t want a photo of a weird dude with a Honey bear in his front pocket? Probably most sober people but that’s beside the point. I’m sure somewhere out there on this crazy interweb there are dozens of facebook photos tagged as Steve smith with “Weird Honey Bear guy”. Personally I’m fine with that. It’s like an alter ego.
The next morning I woke up face down on my couch only to look up at the coffee table to see that little eyed bastard staring back at me. I had a pounding headache, the little bear brought a smile to my face. Then I threw up. That night a new hobby was born, a hobby which I still enjoy today. The ol’ party swap. I realize that this is childish, some would even call stealing from strangers a little wrong, but damnit its harmless and funny. If I’m going to a party where I know absolutely no one I’ll bring a little something. A GI Joe, a bottle of Hot sauce, maybe even a VHS copy of The Sandlot 2, really any random thing that I won’t miss. Once at the party for a bit, I’ll wait or everyone to get a little drunk and then start scoping the place out. Nothing of any value, just an equal trade of uselessness. My only hope is that the next morning some one wakes after their drunken slumber to see that VHS copy of Sandlot 2 and smiles…then they question where the fuck their box of baby wipes went.
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