no, i'm not talking about the someone-just-jumped-out-from-behind-you-and-startled-you scared. nor am i talking about the how-far-down-is-it-from-here?-oh,-heck,-i'll-jump-anyway scared. and i'm not talking about the did-that-car-almost-hit-me? scared. i'm talking the shit-your-pants,-"i-know-it-was-in-here-a-minute-ago,-what-the-hell-happened-to-my-wallet-with-all-my-money,-credit-cards,-and-passport ?scared.
yeah, that scared.
ain't fun, man. ain't fun at all.
i set off from the hotel a little early so i can blog. i pay my part (or what turned out to be 20% less than my part) of the hotel bill stroll for the internet cafe just down the way that we found the day before. as i'm walking, i enter the street to walk around the four or so people waiting for the bus. i have my sling bag around my neck and am dragging my suitcase. i hear something hit the ground. i stop, my water bottle is on the ground. i check the ground for anything else. nope, all's well. carry on.
i walk the rest of the distance to the internet cafe, about maybe less than a quarter mile. there is a little market set up, selling fresh produce, people stopping by on their bikes, others are having some cafe on the patio of a small coffee shop, chatting about this and that. it's a leisurely morning. i walk into the internet cafe, and the owner of the shop is occupied by the lady at the counter. the morning is nice, i'm not even sweating yet. the shop has little trinkets and stuff, and computer equipment. things like travel mice and connectors and that kind of thing.
i was there for about a half minute, then figure that i'll get my cash ready as i'm about to meet up with the girls in about an hour, and i need to get my writing done (and check my account balances and all that jazz). my wallet's not where i usually put it...
i look under the water bottle, under my journal. it's not there...
maybe, when i paid the hotel bill, i stuffed it in the wrong pocket. it's not there...
no, i never misplace things like this...let me triple check the other pocket, where i always put it. it's not there...
oh, shit.
ma'am, sorry to interrupt - can i please leave my bags here for a moment? i think i dropped my wallet.
not there, around the side, so it's out of the way.
please be there. please. it must've been under my suitcase when i turned around. it'll be there. it's only been moments. please be there. please. it has to be there. please.
in this fear, your foot doesn't hurt. it's not just that you'll lose the passport with your stamps in it, or the almost-$400 in euro you took out yesterday, or your credit cards, or your driver's license. you'll lose your freedom. what can you do? sure, you want to stay in italy, but how will you get around? where will you stay? no, your foot runs just fine. your breath even holds out until you run that almost-quarter mile back to the bus stop. as you come up, you see something in the shadow. something setting there on the ground. you don't get your hopes up. i mean, if you breathe that sigh of relief for a leaf on the ground, you're f'ed, man. don't waste that sigh of relief! you have to know first.
luckily, the sigh of relief gets exhaled. luckily, on this lazy morning on this little island, luckily, full of relaxed locals and busy tourists alike, luckily, your wallet is sitting on the pavement, just where it fell, out of sight, under your duffel bag that you were rolling along. luckily, you don't have to discover the adventure of calling your credit card and bank to tell them you lost the cards on this trip. you don't have to find the u.s. embassy to figure out how to get a new passport when you're supposed to be leaving in less than five hours to go to another country.
no, luckily, today, you called in some karmic wonder that you did years ago. maybe you had done something really nice and unwarranted for your sister. maybe you gave someone a couple of bucks when he or she needed it the most. maybe you were there for a friend, being that shoulder to cry on at the perfect time. maybe you shouldn't be so stupid and check your bag when something falls out of it in the future.
eh, either way. be grateful. smile...now you have a story to tell...you know, the day you shat yourself?
3 comments:
Let's see...another time, another place:
It was a delightful dinner along a slightly touristy-but-heck-there-were-little-tables-on-the-sidewalk cafe on the Left Bank of the Seine in Paris.
We had been walking around all afternoon: the plaza in front of Notre Dame, the garden behind, and the quite impressive and totally sobering Holocaust Memorial on the far back end of the island.
We'd wandered more along the Left Bank, visiting a church here, a garden there. And we were hungry.
Our table was the closest to the street in a two-table-wide stretch of tables outside a series of cafes. I deliberately put my backpack at my feet with the strap around my leg and between the two tables.
I even felt better when the local couple sat next to us with a whomping big dog that joined the backpack under the table. Polite dog, locals - maybe it wasn't so touristy after all.
The meal was delicious and the bottle of wine was superb. We ate and toasted the lovely day.
At the end of the meal, I loaded up the backpack and we strolled arm-in-arm along the lovely streets of Paris in the twilight, talking about the next day's plans as we were getting a car and going exploring down to the Riviera.
"Why don't we get some more cash, there's a bank machine?" "Good idea, I'll use my card." Search backpack for wallet. Search more rapidly for wallet. Start taking stuff out of backpack and hand to husband where realization is breaking....
From absolutely perfect moment (good meal, good wine, mellow mood, beautiful evening, pleasant walk down a lovely boulevard in a beautiful city) to shock, disbelief, panic, and then a horrible sick, heavy feeling in the pit of my stomach. Then guilt: did I leave the backpack open? Was it the gypsy lady with the baby we saw in the piazza? Maybe the waiter - he did bend down to pet the dog. Or was I just a complete and total idiot and LOST IT!
The stroll turns to a fast quick-step. We hustle to the hotel to call home where we left the list of credit and bank cards, account numbers, and toll free numbers to report a theft. Thank you daughter! Call them all - including the bank that I had so carefully prepared for the overseas withdrawals.
Now I am persona non grata for everything but the passport. I can travel, but I can't spend or drive. And there's 10 days to go...
It's an awful feeling.....there's none like it. my sympathies entirely. SO glad things worked out for you...Ma
Did you bring a fresh pair of underwaer? You are one Lucky Man!!
You're Stupid.
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