October 08, 2007
requiem for a purple wallet
10/8/07
On Friday night, somewhere between the Duane Reade drugstore on 52nd Street and the British Consul's house on 51st and 2nd Avenue in Manhattan, my wallet disappeared. It was in the pocket of my backpack, there was almost nobody around, and the most logical place it went missing - a scotch tasting attended by some of the most highfalutin' folks in NYC - seems a bizarrely-unlikely place for such absconscion.
Oh, but you say, people lose their wallets all the time. Yes, perhaps, but I don't. I carried that specific wallet around for ALMOST EIGHTEEN YEARS. The last time I lost my wallet, I left it in front of a fake Gothic chapel at Dook University, and it was February 1990. I went to Townsend Bertram in Carrboro and Betsy Towns sold me a new purple wallet that held together with Velcro. Betsy was one of my future wife's best friends, and for some reason I thought her family owned the store because "Townsend" was so close to "Towns". But I digress.
That purple wallet came to signify consistency in a life that was utterly maniacal. I had that wallet writing the last of my Wednesday's Child columns for the paper; it saw me through my first book, countless moves from different houses, to New York, to New Orleans, to California, back again, back again.
I may have been a fuck-up, but at least I still had my wallet. I might have done ecstasy at a rave in the Garden District and drank a whole bottle of Skyy Vodka, but I didn't lose my wallet. When I got so destitute and had to move from McCauley Street to a patch of cold basement floor at the Lodge and work every night at La Rez so I could afford to eat, I still had my fucking wallet.
In fact, as ADD encroached, and my life became the butt of jokes amongst those who preferred to live in one place longer than a year, I used to ask them how long they'd kept their wallet. Tessa is infinitely well-put-together and has organization systems for her organization systems, and she's lost her wallet TWICE since we've lived together. Whenever she mentioned some piece of arcana about my inability to keep my environment out of the clutches of chaos, I'd say, "Yes," while holding up my purple wallet, "but I still have this."
Thus, on Friday, I lost:
- hundreds in cash
- my driver's license
- four credit cards
- all my keys (attached)
- and, worst of all, my Carolina ID from 1990 where I was wearing a green turtleneck.
But that's not all. I lost my moral high ground. Now, I'm just as bad, nay worse than everyone else, because I'm a disorganized, distracted yo-yo who also lost his goddamn wallet. I'd like to bid a fond adieu to my little purple Velcro overstuffed 1990 friend, and thank it for those countless years of loyalty. It was the one inanimate object that stuck by me, and I'm rendered mournful by the thought of it languishing, stripped of all value, lying in a bin thousands of miles away. I can only hope it finds its way back to me, or, barring that, rests peacefully at the bottom of a drawer belonging to someone too distracted to ever put it in the mail.
UPDATE:
Jordana went by the Duane Reade, and there it was, sans cash, but otherwise intact! I'd called the store three times without avail, but like all things, it took actually going there. Jordana - and New York - you're the best!
Ian, I feel your grief--I like to style myself as the sort of person who doesn't lose things, but the truth is, I am. I'm hopeless with umbrellas and sunglasses, and my favorite pair of earrings seems to have quietly left the building, which is sort of rare because I usually just lose one at a time. I've managed to lose my wallet not just once but twice. The second time was in the bursar's office at Columbia, where you'd think that somebody would just hand it in to the lost-and-found. But it got dropped in a mailbox, stripped of everything spendable, and finally made its way back to me via my parents, who had moved twice since the address on my driver's license. I hope the same will happen for your purple friend. Or maybe, just maybe, somebody will find it and give you a call. I've done that for people a couple of times. One can always hope.
That stinks. Sorry to hear about it.
I lost my 1990 Carolina class ring sometime between moving from my old house to my new house last November. Thinking about it still bums me out.
Maybe our wallet and ring will turn up.
I have a lot of trouble keeping up with my wallet, as well as keys. Two years ago, I came home at the end of the day, and there was a message on our answering machine. The voice said that he had my wallet and gave his # for me to contact him. I had no idea I had even LOST my wallet. Earlier in the day, I was pumping gas and put my wallet on top of the car. When I had finished, I forgot to then grab the wallet. So I drove off. Apparently this man was behind me at some point, saw something fly off the car, stopped to see what it was, and then got my # from information (yay for being listed) and called me. LUCKY!
Another time while living in Atlanta, I didn't know I left my keys on top of the car (at my own house). When I couldn't find them, I grabbed the spare key and never found the other set. A few months later, I get a letter from Harris Teeter, the grocery store chain, informing me that they had been contacted by someone saying they found my keys and could they give them my contact info. Those discount type cards you put on your keychain have your account number, and the person who found my keys one day when walking a few neighborhoods over thought to track me down though the grocery store. Glad I didn't give fake info when signing up.
So, I'm sending you some karma.
ian:I want to hear more about the Scotch tasting
Beth said "Purple friend"...
That's Hott-
Oh no! I'm sorry, Ian.
men's wallets go in the back right pants pocket, the left for left handers. maybe the gods were punishing you for clipping your keys to it (gasp!!) and not carrying it like a man.
sorry, but every now and then this blog needs a shot of testosterone. go heels.
I'm just glad that I am not the only person in the world who still has their UNC ID card. I hope your wallet gets back to you.
Sorry to hear that Ian, however I just wanted to let you know that my wallet is "held" together by velcro too. However the velcro doesn't hold anymore.
The very first thing I did after returning from a summer in Africa was to leave my wallet in a cab on 57th Street. Four countries, six airports, countless bus rides, and a particularly strenuous journey in the back of a Toyota Hilux with 30 Zambians, and I still had it. And then, the yellow cab from Penn Station. I didn't really lose more than my dignity -- I was broke anyway. But that wallet also held my old UNC ID, and with it went four years of Davis Library, chicken wraps from Lenoir, and the irrefutable proof that I was once, and tragically, blonde. I still remember my PID, though.
On Friday night, somewhere between the Duane Reade drugstore and a two-dollar buzz, I stole Ian’s wallet. I don’t care what fancy party he was going to or coming from, or what scotch he was drinking--at the time I was drinking malt liquor. I stole the wallet.
It was an old trashy wallet. He can tell you he got it from this or that famous person who he maybe did or did not get nasty with. I will tell you what’s nasty. That wallet. It was greasy and dirty, but I do not split hairs. It had money in it.
That wallet did not mean crap to nobody. He can tell you it was some kind of cheap metaphor about Velcro or something . Don’t listen.
Then he is going tell you how cool he was 20 years ago, what fancy liquor he drinks. What frat he was in, as if they ain’t all the same. Do you care about this phony horse hockey?
Then he is going to keep on and try to get street cred for having ADD or some stuff like that and brag he’s got a hot lady. Uh huh.
Oh jeez. Now he tells you how rich he is with all that money and plastic and keys to important houses and the turtleneck wearing ID to his so-called Pubic Ivy. Let me ask you, who’s got that money now? ME! I do!
Know what? I do almost feel sorry for this dude, writing about how this wallet means this or that, thinking everybody’s reading his sad story and going “Ahh, he’s so smart! he’s so thoughtful!” I think they probably’re going “Hell yeah, about time somebody ripped this guy off!”
Well, you all can thank me, ‘cause I stole this dude’s wallet. Think I’ll donate what’s left to the Baptist church.
That sucks about your wallet. I've been living in constant fear of having mine stolen since I've been in New York. But if they stole it, they'd hardly get anything. They'd get some cash and a cards, but there's not really much to that stuff. Mostly they'd get my wallet that I love that I bought in Sacramento's Chinatown. I'd really miss that wallet.
What a drag. Sorry you lost the wallet that had been so true to you for all of these years (but perhaps it is time to get a grown up version?).
I am really sorry that you have to go through the b.s. that I am very familiar with: cancelling cards, getting new IDs, etc.
If you're lucky, no one has gone "shopping" with your plastic. You'd be amazed at how much the pros can get done in the three hours it takes you to figure out your wallet's even gone. Golf clubs to Singapore? Fill up the tank? Auto Parts? Christmas shopping at the Wal-mart?...Six times? Damn...they always shut you down at the Western Union. It's all happened to us.
If your wallet shows up again, it would make a great story. Hope you tell us.
I must not be all that sharp today, for I immediately calculated I'd been using my wallet for the last 12 years, when in fact it was discarded 7 years ago in favor of a money clip. I used to keep both money and cards together, but for the last 4.5 years (corresponding with my stay in and around nyc) I've kept the money clip in one front pocket and a card carrier in the other. You know, to hedge the pain of when I'm eventually pickpocketed. Or murdered.
I found a guy's wallet a few weeks ago on the sidewalk in our hometown near all the bars, and my then-fiance (now hubby) and I promptly walked it over to the police station. It had the guy's business cards and plenty of ways to contact him...
yet, the police said to me that if it wasn't claimed in a few weeks, I could have it. I pointed out that his number was in it, assuming they would call him right away. In retrospect, maybe I should have called him myself. Anyway, I called a few days later to ask about it, and they said they always call the owner when a wallet comes in. But I'm not so sure...Moral of story: Ian, try calling the surrounding police departments, even though you probably believe it's pointless because someone swiped it. There is a chance it's sitting in the evidence drawer and no one's paying it any mind. Also, it may have fallen out at the tasting when you were shifting gears. Call the place it was held.
You'd be surprised.
Man, what a BUMMER. I send my condolences...
I really can relate to the joy of holding onto that last vestige of organizational non-fucked-upedness and brandishing it like the holy grail when somebody gives you shit about being a space cadet...
I hope somehow you can get it back; crazier shit has happened in this city.
hey CL, congrats!!!
I once found a leather address book in the back of a cab. lots of fancy nyc doctors, medical charts, and celeb addresses and phone numbers...
on the first page: if found please call L. Kramer. I called, returned it, nice guy, funny and cranky, GREAT stories...
I hope he's feeling ok.
Dude. Call Jordana. She's got a surprise for you...
Oh my god, "Yo! Thief!", that was actually pretty good. Gotta give you props.
Can I request a Lucy/Barno blog with pictures, please? Also, if you don't include the punchline for this blog, I'm gonna ruin the whole thing for you.
I updated!
Lucy/Barno pictures blog: YES!!!
And so, like, when are y'all coming to Chapel Hill?
man, i'm sorry you lost your wallet and your cash. but i'm also glad you were reunited with it AFTER you wrote this post!
Yippee!! A happy ending!!!!!
AWESOMENESS.
Congrats!
:)
ian. I feel so relieved to still have a connection to your back pocket. At the same time, I feel like I should return to townsend bertram and company, take a job for a few days, and sell you something that maybe hasn't been in your pocket for 17 years for the sake of shrinking the purple quotient on the planet, or style, or novelty, or hygiene, even. I guess I have to ask, being someone who has lost her wallet at least seven times, ok at least five times, in the 17 years since selling you a faithful one, the same 17 years that I have spent married to someone who has never lost his wallet, even for a few days. Do you still claim moral high ground on this issue? I miss you guys so much I can't even write either of you an email. thanks to c.s. for sending me notice of my name showing here so I would touch base this way. can I drop in in december? will you still be east.
Yay! So glad you got it back. That is frustrating that you called three times to no avail. It makes me really wonder about the guy whose wallet I returned to the police. I wonder if it's still sitting there and they never called him.
On an unrelated note except in principle: If you ever lose a pet, go to the local shelters, don't just call. They never know a thing til you GO there.