My Lost Wallet
A couple of weeks ago, I was leaving my office in Soho with my fiance to walk to the train. To leave our office you have to wave your ID card in front of a little electric eye, which I did, and then replaced my wallet inside my bag. As we walked out we realized it was raining.
I was filled with delight as I realized that for perhaps the first time in my life, I had (a) known that it was planning to rain, (b) remembered to grab an umbrella before I left the house, and (c) not lost it on the subway, left in a taxicab, or forgotten it at my desk. Triumphantly I swept it out of my purse and opened it with a flourish, gloating at my own prudency and organization skills.
Still suffused with pride and well-being, I kissed my fiance goodbye, furled my umbrella, and descended into the train station, reaching for my wallet so I could... get... my... Metrocard...
Wallet gone. GAH! Panic! No! No! Digging in purse. Frantic digging in purse. Removal of all items in purse. Sinking feeling. Slow motion vision of umbrella catching my wallet and flinging it onto the wet street while I walked on all blissful and unaware. Life awful. I ran back to my office looking on the ground. The security people in the lobby were sympathetic but helpless. I had no money and had to get uptown pronto to pick up my kid at school, and had to borrow money from a co-worker just to buy a ride on the subway, humiliated, disgruntled, and very, very late.
I tried to be philosophical about it, but kept thinking about all the things in my wallet and bursting into tears. Drivers license that took me all day to get! Insurance cards! Credit cards! Little drawings and notes from my son! Curses! Curses! I was in despair.
About a week later, I had become resigned to the whole thing. I'd cancelled the credit cards and was girding my loins for another nauseating New York DMV experience. I came home from work and grabbed the mail as we lugged my son's heavy packpack, saxophone case, and several bags of groceries up the steps to our apartment.
In the mail, in an envelope from the post office, was my wallet. Intact. Complete with credit cards, Metrocard, driver's license, notes from little boy, everything.
Thank you anonymous New York stranger! You made my day, and it was so uplifting and restorative to rejoice about your kindness with my family.
I was filled with delight as I realized that for perhaps the first time in my life, I had (a) known that it was planning to rain, (b) remembered to grab an umbrella before I left the house, and (c) not lost it on the subway, left in a taxicab, or forgotten it at my desk. Triumphantly I swept it out of my purse and opened it with a flourish, gloating at my own prudency and organization skills.
Still suffused with pride and well-being, I kissed my fiance goodbye, furled my umbrella, and descended into the train station, reaching for my wallet so I could... get... my... Metrocard...
Wallet gone. GAH! Panic! No! No! Digging in purse. Frantic digging in purse. Removal of all items in purse. Sinking feeling. Slow motion vision of umbrella catching my wallet and flinging it onto the wet street while I walked on all blissful and unaware. Life awful. I ran back to my office looking on the ground. The security people in the lobby were sympathetic but helpless. I had no money and had to get uptown pronto to pick up my kid at school, and had to borrow money from a co-worker just to buy a ride on the subway, humiliated, disgruntled, and very, very late.
I tried to be philosophical about it, but kept thinking about all the things in my wallet and bursting into tears. Drivers license that took me all day to get! Insurance cards! Credit cards! Little drawings and notes from my son! Curses! Curses! I was in despair.
About a week later, I had become resigned to the whole thing. I'd cancelled the credit cards and was girding my loins for another nauseating New York DMV experience. I came home from work and grabbed the mail as we lugged my son's heavy packpack, saxophone case, and several bags of groceries up the steps to our apartment.
In the mail, in an envelope from the post office, was my wallet. Intact. Complete with credit cards, Metrocard, driver's license, notes from little boy, everything.
Thank you anonymous New York stranger! You made my day, and it was so uplifting and restorative to rejoice about your kindness with my family.
posted by Joan at 11:23 AM
2 Comments:
Great Story! I love this. Nice idea. BFF.
I have to admit that for just a moment I felt at home. Grab a glass of wine and tell me the story again darlin. Its that little piece of New York that no one gets. Give Connor a big kiss for me, and make sure he knows its from me. Love.
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