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I guarantee this will be the weirdest story you've ever heard. At the moment, you can watch rent it on Amazon Prime or buy it on Apple. I've said this multiple times so far, but I swear it's on St. Marks and it's not douchey. Also don't start going there, because it's my bar and it's impossible to find a not-crowded bar in New York City with a good happy hour. So yeah, don't go there. Honestly, it's genius. I applaud the person who took my phone. I bet you he stole 20 phones that night. It's the perfect place to steal phones.
Anyway, I call my phone and it goes straight to voicemail: the international sign of death. I was never seeing that phone again. The phone was gone. I'm sitting on my couch with some friends going through my photo stream on my new phone. That's when I see a ton of pictures I didn't take, most memorably about 20 selfies of some dude and an orange tree. Hilarious and scary. I obviously freak out, show everyone the pictures, and for an hour we all speculate about what the fuck is going on with my phone.
We come up with a bunch of theories that basically revolve around crossing iCloud photo streams, North Korea hackings, and hauntings. My phone is possessed. For a month, this orange man's pictures keep on showing up on my phone.
I start to get used to the daily photo updates, and it becomes fun for me to check my phone and see this guy's pictures. It's mysterious. I don't really do anything about these mystery photos until I talk to a friend of mine and he scares the shit out of me. He asks me if I lost a phone recently. I didn't recently, but over a year ago. He says that my phone is in China. That's where most stolen iPhones end up. I go to the Apple Store and sure enough, my old iPhone is online.
I delete the phone. It is essentially a brick. The man who has my phone cannot use it anymore. That's it. Within hours, I'm getting tweets from people in China.