The Time I Found A Wallet

First and foremost my dear reader(s) I want to apologize for the yo-yo that is my blog posting. I swore that I wouldn't do this but here I go anyway. From now on I will write daily (or weekly, whatever floats my fancy) or you get a Whatchamacallit. Yes the delicious candy bar that may or may not have been recalled several decades ago. I am not responsible for any lingering ailments the 20 year old candy bars may cause.

On to the story!

To say I am just above the poverty line at this moment in my life is no exaggeration. I'll readily admit that this is my own fault (my electronics fetish is quite consuming), but at this point I now have a lifestyle I have to keep up and bills be damned I need HD Cable and a car that carries a monthly cost that rivals a Hummer. While I considered trading in my Prius for a 1988 Geo (same MPG!) Al Gore convinced me that trading down to non-hybrid status would guarantee that Bush gets a 3rd term.

So I want/need money like Amy Winehouse needs menthol flavored heroine (goes down smoother). On my way home from work I ran into a situation that only presents itself on shitty teen sitcoms (i.e. Family Matters, Growing Pains and Suite Life of Zach and Cody). I found me a wallet.

While saving the world through fuel economy (driving) I saw something fly out from the motorcyclist in front of me. My first thought was the normal reaction (roadkill, again) but as the wallet hit the ground my 6th sense kicked in and I sensed cash was to be had. So being the gentle human I am, I debated briefly whether or not I should pick it up. I turned around.

I was about a square block away from the wallet and so in the 45 seconds of drive time I had before I met my remedy I pondered how much I would make. I swore I saw a pile of bills fall out (like the ones them fancy pimps carry) and I was quite overjoyed. I return to the scene of the crime, park the car and search the street for that brown sack of cash.

I find the wallet. Inside where all of this man's info (I'll call him Tim). Tim's college ID, Tim's Credit Card, Tim's Players Club Card, I had him right where I wanted him. I then searched for the dollar bills that were surely scattered among the street.

I found one dollar. His wallet lied, this man was no player and his card should be revoked. Sure, the dollars could've blown away but regardless they were not there and my sense of "decency" took over. I decided to put the solitary dollar away in the wallet and look at Tim's license to find out where he lived. Google maps (on my phone) was none to helpful so I returned home to see if I could look him up on the interweb.

Maybe watching My Name is Earl has brought me into the mindset of Karma, but at this point I'm hoping its real because this is a lot of fucking work for very little in return. This man did not exist on the interweb, so I tried my hands at google maps again and decided to drive to the address and just hand Tim the wallet.

Amelia and I hopped in the car and set off for the 3 mile journey. After getting lost, and getting saluted by two....pudgy 10 year old girls we found the place. We get out of the car, wallet in tow and knock on the door. Tim takes just 2 seconds too long to answer, but as soon as he opens the door he knows why we are there (there could be no other reason that white people would be in this neighborhood). Elated, Tim just screams "thank you thank you!" I explain to where I found it and asked him if he was riding a motorcycle (all while giving the "vroom vroom" handle bar sign). He indeed was. This was my Tim.

Tim then asked what we wanted in return. This question puzzled me - I of course said nothing and began to walk away, but Tim followed and asked for our names. In the long run it will never really matter, but that instant is quite an awkward moment. I just saved this man months worth of heartache and want nothing in return, but as a human being, he can not just "oh thanks" and slam the door.

It was at this instant that I began to feel pretty good about myself. Karma for me! I did my good deed for the year and I was resolved to walk away with just that feeling. As I embraced this feeling, I realized that he might think we said we didn't want anything because we took his money (imagine if he did have a pimp's goblet worth of cash and now it was gone, he would obviously assume we took it to reward ourselves). I quickly hoped that there was no other money than the $1 bill and that karma would love me for eternity.

I know what you are thinking, I shouldn't have karma because I stopped to pick up the cash. To that I say yes, BUT there is no guarantee I would've kept the cash and I did the right thing anyway so I deserve the karma.

Also my entire definition of what karma is, is based on a shitty TV show featuring a Scientologist and that fat guy from Boy Meets World.

The moral of the story is that I'm still poor and I did a nice thing for a man I didn't know, but that man probably suspects me for stealing his "ho" money. Does karma come yearly in the form of a cashier's check?