about that wallet

So, my wallet.

Gone. Poof. Nothing. Losing your wallet is sort of like losing your virginity. You either have it or you don't.

It was, if you will, a lesson in stupidity. I was convinced that I had it when we returned from the Opera; I distinctly remember having taken it out of my jacket pocket when we drove through the Carl's Jr. drive-through. The next day when I discovered it was gone, I distinctly remembered taking it out of my pocket to get change for laundry at some point during the morning. Except, when I sat down to really think about it, I wasn't sure if I'd actually taken my wallet out to check the coin-purse or only intended to take it out to check the coin-purse.

According to the Guy, for the majority of the people out there in the world, thinking something is different from doing something, and the two don't necessarily march hand in hand. This is, to my opinion, an incredible waste of time. Sadly, I lack the ability to make distinction between the two. If I think and don't do it, I must have done it. If I do it and don't think it, I must have thought it. Cause and effect have about as much impact on me as they might to a potato bug; deep philosophical questions, as my one failed attempt in college proved, are as wasted on me as a manicure on a rattlesnake.

"What do you see?"

"A glass."

"Where is it?"

"Right there."

"On a table?"

"Yes."

"How do you know it's a glass on a table?"

"Because it is."

"Yes, but why is it?"

"You put it there a second ago."

"No, I mean, how do you know that the glass is really on the table?"

"Because you put it there."

"But how do you know it's really a glass? How do you know it's really a table? How do you know they're really there?"

CRASH.

"You broke my glass!"

"Yes, but how do you know it's really a glass?"

"I can't believe you did that!"

"How do you know I did?"

"YOU BROKE IT! THAT WAS EXPENSIVE!"

Philosophers have no philosophy when it comes to crystal. Should have used a Raiders mug, that's what I say.

What was the point of this all, again?

Oh, right. The wallet.

We searched my apartment from top to bottom, and then from bottom to top for the rest of the day. My business trip had me leaving on Monday morning, driving down to V------ to reach there by noon, living in a hotel until Thursday, then driving back up on Thursday night. Of course, since my wallet contained my license, my credit card, my ATM card, my medical ID, and my driver's insurance card, and every other piece of identification I happened to own, this was going to prove a problem.

We searched until midnight. The next morning we searched some more. Sans wallet, sans ID, sans anything but the Guy's ATM card, I hopped in my car at 8 A.M. and drove south for three and a half hours, paranoid as a hamster. Any car that looked like it held a brace of lights, I slowed down for. For ten minutes I plodded at 30 miles an hour, neck and neck with a California Highway Patrol car with a vicious sense of humor.

I wrote an email to my coworkers back at the main office. "I don't know if they'll let me check in at the hotel without any ID or credit card. If they don't, I'm planning on crying at them. I'm short, female, and have really fat cheeks, so that might work."

There was no trouble with the hotel. I was a little bit disappointed.

Losing a wallet always demands prompt action; after all, there are credit card numbers to think of, and ID theft. Knowing that, I waited four days until I called to cancel my cards and request new ones from my bank and credit card company. To punish me for losing my license, the DMV made me wait two hours in line to fill out a thirty-second form and pay a $12 check.

"I thought I had to give a thumbprint and stuff," I protested.

"No, just the form and the money."

"But the web site said--"

"You could have mailed it in," the DMV man said unhelpfully.

Two little, two late. (sic.)

I haven't given up hope that my wallet will show up in some inconvenient place some day, probably after I've finished replacing every crucial piece of ID I own. I leave in another week to go to V----- again; the DMV promises I might get my new license before then, or the week after if I'm unlucky. In the meantime, I'm zooming around town on a temporary license, a little dot-matrix printout that Costco won't accept as substitute identification because it doesn't have a picture. I can accept that. Costco has to have its standards, after all.

On the other hand, it's about time for us to buy toilet paper, and lots of it. And what do you say to your guest when he's banging on the inside of the bathroom door, wanting to be rescued with a brand new in-the-wrapper roll of soft papery freshness? Sorry, man, they wouldn't take my word of honor at Costco?

Posted by yhirata at January 26, 2003 08:38 PM