Strangers with Candy Quote — Jerri Blank: “I cried when I had no shoes…until I met a man who had no feet. And then I laughed. Really hard.”
I was ready to seize the day. I was up early, the bed was made, I had my to-do-list ready and I was gonna get my coffee on so I could get crackin’ with the latest Hot Topic column. But of course, the day slipped from my clutches and left me a trail of shit after I realized my wallet was missing. Poof! Gone! Completely lost. The bed was ripped apart; drawers were pulled open and rummaged through and the entire apartment was turned inside out. No wallet.
I have a way of making my wallet/keys/phone completely vanish. I live my life constantly checking my pockets throughout the day and chanting wallet/keys/phone/wallet/keys/phone. People say it’s A.D.D. I say it’s a curse; the Gods like to punish me by hiding my wallet/keys/phone. It’s been like this since I was a kid. My mother would be like, “If I find that shoe I’m gonna hit you with it.” The same went for a book, shirt, toy or whatever I lost. You best believe I always found that damn shoe.
I retraced my steps and I KNEW exactly where my wallet popped out of my pocket. I went to the gym the previous night. I kept checking for my wallet/keys/phone throughout my workout. I was done, but I decided to add some last minute ab crunches. That’s where my wallet was on my person no longer. My wallet was El Gone O. I could practically see it fall out.
I rushed to the gym. And guess what–no wallet had been turned in. I have gone through these motions before, unfortunately. People always turn it in. This is West Hollywood. People don’t find wallets and decide it’s finders keepers. People turn it in and I always gasp and sigh with dramatic relief and put my hand over my heart and gush with gratitude for everyone in the room. My ass was moded this time though. No wallet. It was 9am. I believe the gym opens at 6.
I walked out of that gym with hatred in my heart for the front desk people. I decided they didn’t look hard enough. They weren’t interested enough. And why did I have to offer to leave my phone number?
Somebody HELP ME!!!
We all know the drill. I’m gonna have to cancel credit cards, my debit bank card, change my Paypal account information and Bill Pay–not to mention the biggest shit-kicker of all, which is go through the process of getting a new drivers license.
A friend took me to Starbucks to try to cheer me up–his treat, cuz my ass was cash poor. My mood was beyond foul. That’s when the shitty committee in my head started weighing in on how I’m a fuck-up, I’m stupid, I’m no damn good and so forth. I started combing through any wrong doings that may have led to my missing wallet. I try not to be so superstitious, but at the same time I try not to be shady…just in case. I’m not as bad as I used to be (gulp). My crimes these days are minor (never you mind). Losing a wallet seemed like a hell-of-a-harsh blow. Shit like this shouldn’t happen!
Then the pity committee kicked in and I started feeling sorry for myself. What’s the point of being good if bad shit continues to happen? What’s the point of doing right if things continue to go wrong? I don’t expect the universe to reward me, but this was bullshit. My ass felt punished with a capital “P.” It sucks to be me. The day was completely totally and UTTERLY RUINED!!!
I HATE MY LIFE!!!
THEN…a youngish guy walked into the Starbucks establishment. The guy is tall with long legs and a long lean torso. In fact, the guy was all torso. What I mean is that his right arm was completely missing from the shoulder socket and a holster held a prosthetic arm where his left arm should be. All eyes were on him and quickly looking away. He didn’t seem to mind. His face looked serene while he waited in line. I saw him at the register. The prosthetic had hooks. It was rude to stare. I don’t know what he bought or how he paid for it.
Try feeling sorry for yourself in the presence of an armless man and before too long you start feeling like a complete total and utter asshole.
The shift was INSTANT. I went from the pity pot, to an attitude of gratitude. My arms were sore from my workout the previous night. Getting a new credit card, changing account info, and a new drivers license didn’t seem so bad after all. I’m not saying it sucks to be him or that this guy lost both arms, so I could have a better day, but life does have a funny (or not so funny) way of reminding you that no matter how bad the shit is, or how hard the shit hits the fan/hits the weed-whacker/hits the ceiling, the shit can always get worse.
I was gonna walk to my bank to start the process of cancelling my cards, but I decided to give my apartment one final sweep. And still no wallet. I walked past the gym and decided to check one more time. I stepped inside the lobby and my phone rang. The front desk guy looked right at me with the receiver on his hand. “I was just calling you,” he said. Then he held out my brown little credit card wallet from Barneys New York. My dollar bill still folded inside (cash poor). I love West Hollywood.
I gasped and sighed with relief. And I put my hand over my heart.
Everything will be OK.