Dude,
I gotta hand it to you man, you got me. And I’m not an easy mark, having been a careful, wallet-in-the-front-pocket kinda guy my whole life. But I wasn’t wearing my deep-pocketed cargo shorts that day. I had made the mistake of admitting to my wife that I had worn them almost every day for a month without washing them. So she took them from me and I was in my crappy backup shorts – the ones I reserve for riding burros or being bled upon. And they have shallow pockets that are barely pockets at all. Kinda like how sex in a bathtub is still technically sex, but the awful kind.
Anyway, my wallet was in my right front pocket as usual. My keys and four copies of the same damn San Diego Zoo map were folded in my left pocket – one for each child, all of whom expected me to produce their copy on demand, and then secret it away again. I also had an irritating brace on my left wrist as a result of an embarrassing texting-while-walking-and-then-falling-down-the-stairs accident. And that’s what caused the trouble.
At the end of a long, weary day walking around the zoo in the sun, my arm was sweaty and gross from the wrist brace. I was sick of wearing it, so before hoisting my daughter onto my shoulders for the long walk back to the car, I pulled it off. It didn’t fit in my back pocket, so I stuffed it in the front. But that was uncomfortable. And our little photo cards were in there too, which we needed before we left if we were to purchase our group photos. And everyone had complaints to register with me at once. And why do we have to leave?? And what about ice cream?! And what about bullshit souvenirs? And in my distraction and weariness, I regrettably put my wallet in my shallow back pocket. Then, with my daughter on my shoulders, I walked through a crowd of people at the gates where you were lurking, and never saw my wallet again.
You probably expect me to heap hate on you at this point. I shan’t. A younger Mike would have. Even a couple years ago, I would have at least hurled some creative and brutally nasty insults at you. In my more regrettable moments, I can become a meaner, more articulate version of The Incredible Hulk – except instead of potentially infinite strength, I have potentially infinite spite. But as destructive as my wrath can be, I’ve learned that it actually hurts me more than the target of that wrath. So instead, I forgive you brother – for you of course, but also for me. Go in peace, and I hope that whatever journey you’re on eventually leads you to brighter places.
Before I’m done though, proper respect must be paid to the items you stole, so I can honor them as I let them go. Rather than catalog what I’ve lost though, I choose to highlight what you’ve won.
First, there is the wallet itself. It’s a black leather and chrome business card holder with the logo of a company that no longer exists. It was given to me by some executives I loved to mark five of my years in their service. I lost the original, and a good friend and former co-worker went to the trouble of mailing me hers as a replacement. I probably won’t ever see its like again. You’re going to love it. Every third time I pulled it out, someone complimented it. It’s straight legit – the stuff of ballers – and you should treat it as such. No over stuffing it. Four cards max, and maybe the odd hotel key card. No loyalty cards, no business receipts, no sandwich punch card bullshit. Act like you deserve it. Otherwise, you may as well be doing what I am now: carrying a few bills, your wife’s debit card, and a Costco membership as a photo ID in a freaking ziplock bag in your pocket – like a total non-boss.
Second, there are the three cards that were in the wallet. These are useless to you because they were cancelled within minutes, as you no doubt realized if you tried to use any of them. The heavy lifting was done by my personal Amex. Amex knows this of course, and crapped themselves at the idea that I might spend a day not charging on their card. So the replacement card is already waiting for me to arrive at the hotel in Vegas. No harm done. Second is the corporate Amex, which I use all of about twice a year, so whatevs. (Yawn.) It’s on the way to my house via snail mail. That leaves my ATM/debit card, which I won’t get until Wednesday. (USAA customer service my ass.) The loss of that card normally wouldn’t bother me much. I mean, who uses cash for anything? But the truth is that, other than occasionally tipping valet drivers, the only time I ever use cash is in Vegas – where I am headed now. Yes, I can use my wife’s card for cash, but that just feels gross and lame. Ah well. I’ll probably get over it the minute I start rolling bones.
Next is my driver’s license. I have to physically go to the Department of Public Safety during business hours and wait in the Forever Line to replace it. So thanks for that, you total parasitic assho- sorry, sorry. I had a brief relapse to my old days there. I’m good. It’s all good. In fact, you probably did me a favor. That photo of me was gross. I was a total Fatty Fatterton. I’ll retake it after not eating carbs for like two weeks and be dead sexy again. No worries.
Then there is the Ferragamo money clip that I had stuck to the metal half of the wallet. The magnet in that money clip is the strongest magnet ever placed in mortal hands. If it was ever in my pocket as I walked past a dishwasher or refrigerator, my pants would get stuck. If you have kids, you can delight them with a comedy routine that features this money clip in your pants and your feigned inability to escape from the metal surfaces to which it sticks. No worries on this count though. I consider this to be a lifestyle essential, so Nordstrom will drop ship another one of these to me in no time. Enjoy my old one.
Lastly, there is the cash itself. The four twenties I had are just money – spend them in good health. The same goes for that nasty, weather-beaten old five. Yech.
The fifty and the two tens are a different story though. The fifty dollar bill was given to me by my oldest son to pay for a chair he wanted (but didn’t need) for his room. I had been half joking when I said “if you want to pay for it . . .” and he had agreed. The two tens were from my two youngest kids to get smaller versions of the same chair their big brother liked. It didn’t cover the cost of the chairs, but it was their tooth fairy money and it was all they had. They wanted to be responsible and try to contribute, like the big brother they adore. In other words, those bills are worth more than a king’s ransom. I carried them with pride, as symbols of something greater than currency. I don’t expect you to keep them as I would have. But I do expect you to make sure that, when you do spend them, you remember their source, and that you are being as responsible as my children were trying to be.
I let these things go now, and entrust them to you with no ill will. Honor them, but also yourself. I don’t know what you face in your life, but I wish the best for you. Namaste and such.
Yours, etc.,
JMHH
P.S. San Diego was amazing. Don’t fret that this inconvenience has impacted my epic family vacation. Really man. It’s all good.