Ok, he wasn't wearing a mask but my phone was still stolen.
Last Thursday, (yes, I needed a week to compose myself before writing this) I was walking to the subway on 7th Avenue when a 14-year old boy ripped my phone out of my hand. At first I tried to stand my ground and not let go. HUGE MISTAKE. He then proceeded to twist it out of my hand anyway and I really would have liked to avoid the wrist injury.
I'd like to say that I man'd up, chased him down and got my phone back. Unfortunately, I stood on the street corner hysterically crying while he turned around to laugh at me before sprinting off into the crowd. Way to kick a girl when she's down! I immediately went into crazed survival mode. I took the subway to Grand Central and tried to find a payphone. Do you know how to use a payphone anymore? Because I sure don't. $3 worth of quarters later my mother had hung up on me three times because she didn't recognize the number and couldn't understand the crying freak on the phone. Mission failed. Quarterless, teary-eyed I boarded my train home to try to pick up the shambles of my life.
Yes, yes I know what you're saying. "It's just a phone." Well you can suck it! While I'm unnaturally attached to my phone it wasn't about that. My entire sense of security has been completely shattered. I fell asleep on the train holding my iPad and when it fell a little because I was passed out, I immediately assumed someone was robbing me and jumped out of my seat like a lunatic.
Moral of the story: keep your phone in your pocket or carry a knife...your choice.