Yeah, so, someone stole my coat!
Monday night, mighty, mighty good man David and I went to dinner at Marlowe for our three-year dating anniversary. We usually go to Broken Record, which is where we had our first date; however, we have repeatedly read that Marlowe has one of the best burgers in San Francisco, and David needed to investigate. The ruling: It was good, but not as good as Serpentine or Broken Record.
So anyway, back to my missing coat … At Marlowe, there is an area to hang your coats. We had to wait a few minutes for our table, so instead of balancing a glass of wine and my coat while standing at the bar, I hung up my coat. David tried to stop me.
“Don’t worry. No one will steal my coat. This is a nice place,” I said.
“I’m not worried someone will steal it. I just don’t want you to forget it,” he said.
After dinner I went to grab my coat, but it was gone. Dun dun duuuuun.
There was another jacket hanging up that looked similar to mine, but it wasn’t mine. I’m sure someone was a little tipsy and accidentally grabbed the wrong coat. She didn’t do it on purpose. I left my name and number with a description of the coat at the restaurant. I’m hoping that this person will do the right thing and go back to the restaurant to get her own coat and return mine. I’m skeptical that will happen. To be honest, my coat is nicer than the coat that was left behind. I’m worried that she will just think her mistake resulted in a nicer coat for herself.
I am so bummed. I love that coat. My mom bought me that coat for my birthday three years ago. I’ve worn it during some of the happiest times of my life.
The only good thing that will come out of this is the fact that I now have an excuse to buy a new coat. Still, I want my coat back, dammit!