I’ve lost my wallet now twice in my life, and both under similar circumstances.
The first time was back when I lived with two people who now inexplicably hate me, regardless of my charm, wit, and dashing good looks. I had a wallet I had fashioned myself out of duct tape, and because I was working three jobs at the time, I sort of had about $300 in it, and it didn’t fit so wonderfully in my back pocket. So when I was lifting my leg to hop into my enormous car, I heard a soft splat and thought nothing of it. It was a wintery time, and bending down in a dark parking lot with a huge puffy coat on is pretty annoying, and plus the sound was so quiet, I couldn’t imagine it being anything. I’m actually amazed that I remember hearing it at all. Anyway, all these thoughts shot into my mind in a millisecond, and I dismissed them as I zoomed off with ex-friends in tow for a movie.
When I got to said movie, of course, I couldn’t find my money, and I had to awkwardly break to my friends that, Look, you guys can totally stay here and watch, but I have to go home and get my wallet with way too much money that I now realize is in the sketchy parking lot where we live. They opted not to make me drive back to get them, which I TOTALLY would have done — a testament to my great-friendness, and all the more odd that they should hate me right now. Amazingly luckily, I got back to my spot, and there was my wallet, gleaming in the orange light, not stolen by the scores of rapists and thieves that routinely traversed the parking lot where I used to live.
Then, last Monday night, I decided that my parking space was just too good to give up, and I biked to the nearby grocery store. However, my eyes had apparently been larger than my backpack, and I had bought too much foodstuffs, requiring me to balance a cube of cokes on my handlebars. As I was crossing the street, I heard a thump, and I knew that my bike lock was also balanced precariously in a plastic bag. But the sound was distinctly NOT a bike lock hitting the ground, so I continued on my merry way.
I was so merry in fact, that I didn’t notice anything amiss for quite some time, not even noticing the fact that my cellphone’s battery was so low, I couldn’t receive calls. Well, when I finally recharged it around noon the next day, I found a call from a man named Joel made around the time I was biking back, saying that he had found the wallet I didn’t even know I’d lost. Feeling pretty stupid that I had apparently not noticed up to this point, I called him back, leaving a message, and thanking him profusely, saying I could pick it up whenever. That was at noon. By 5:00, I still hadn’t heard back, but I figured normal people in Hollywood don’t get out of work until even later, so I kept waiting. 9:00, I called him again, trying not to sound desperate or worried that he had somehow renegged on his generosity. After all, I had his name! I had his phone number! I looked him up on imdb! He’s an actor!
All day today, Wednesday, nothing. I felt sick at work (unrelated to wallet mishaps, but I’m sure it didn’t help), and came home at noon to rest. The whole time, I had dreams of some dastardly duo of thievery, one who had a conscience and wanted to warn me of my lost property, but the other was down-and-out and needed to use my meager bank balance to feed his starving children. The dream culminated in a final call to me, explaining the situation that they could no longer return my wallet, and apologizing, oh, and, no, I also couldn’t even have back the tiny pictures of my friends from Japan I keep in there.
I was awakened from this dream by a phone call from Joel himself! Who sounded very sorry for being so busy and was probably about to tell me how he knows how much losing your wallet sucks, but my cell decided to take that moment to die again because I accidentally talked for 2 hours last night to ANOTHER friend I had to convince not to hate me anymore. (I think it worked?)
But yes. So Joel now thinks I am some irresponsible, lame-phone-having twit, and he’s probably right. Yesterday, Kevin pointed out how odd it is that I’m so OCD about many things, including filing and cross-referencing every receipt I have ever owned, and yet things like THIS and losing my damn passport the week before traveling from Japan to the US keep happening to me. I say that I HAVE to be OCD to prevent things like this happening to me on a damn daily basis.
Anyhoo, after my dumb phone decided to take the delicious electricity I was giving it, I got in contact with delightful Joel, who actually lives two buildings down from me and was running off to his second job, but would I like to stop over and rendezvous? I sure would, I told him, and I threw on my clothes (I was sleeping, if you recall), grabbed $20 my roommate left for me to give as a reward, and asked myself how weird it would be if I also tried to give him my fresh baked brownies as super thanks. Pretty weird, but brownies are brownies, I decided, so I threw them on a napkin and ran down the road, debating all the while if joking “they’re definitely not poisonous, I promise” would help or hurt my case of not looking like a weirdo.
He met me outside, and was, well, dashingly handsome. I was so caught off guard by his striking similarity to a cartoon pilot, that when he extended his hand to shake mine, I responded by placing the brownies into his hand. We joked and small talked, and I thanked him profusely, and he said to stop by any time, which I’m not really sure what that means, but it was nice of him to say it.
So that’s my day. The moral of the story is, when you hear something that sounds remotely like a wallet dropping, you should go get it. The second moral is, if you are my friend, don’t suddenly hate me for no reason. I am nice!