Gooooooooood morning Vietnam!
Or America. Whatever.
So my alma mater has the best traditions ever. One of them is our hazing week, which does not involve alcohol (unless you wish it to.) It's more like pranks and ridiculous, borderline-humiliating things. I, for example, had to bring my heller meals in bed and stuff like that.
Anyway, every year when Hell Week comes around, it makes me seriously happy. This year was even better than usual, though.
I planned on spending the weekend at a friend's apartment, so I packed a suitcase with clothes and stuff for a couple of nights. On the train in I realized I had this pin of an owl--my alma mater's mascot--in my jewelry bag and I wanted to wear it on my coat. So I got the bag out, found the pin, and pinned it on.
In my early morning stupor, I apparently forgot to put the bag back in my suitcase.
Before I go on, it's important to know that I forget stuff everywhere. There are little pieces of me scattered all up and down the eastern seaboard. It's also important to know that because there were several activities planned for the weekend, I'd packed some of my favorite pieces in this jewelry bag--none very valuable, but all of them irreplaceable.
After one of my earrings fell out at work, I went into my suitcase to look for earring backs. I had a total panic attack when I realized the bag was missing. I filled out a Lost and Found report online--then, because I completely lack faith in Transit's online L&F system, I called the train company and the station and filed Lost and Found reports. I even snuck into the ladies' room to cry a little. But mostly I put an SOS out there into the universe and hoped I'd get lucky. After all, nothing bad can happen in Hell Week ... right?
On my way to the Hell Week Happy Hour, I stopped at the station to check in their Lost and Found. On the verge of tears again, I introduced myself to Kelly and Dee, who were working the Customer Service desk. "I left my jewelry bag on the train this morning, it was black, sort of curved with a zipper top, and it had all my jewelry inside it."
Kelly smiled a little and asked, "Did it have little beads on it?"
I cried. I jumped up and down and did a happy dance. I spread my arms over the glass and kissed it. I squealed "Thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you!"
Kelly went into the back, fetched my bag, filled out the forms, and then returned my property to me. The pearl necklace I just bought on sale through Groupon. The red beaded earrings my mom bought me from Chico's the summer I was 22 when we were shopping in Georgetown, the first thing I ever owned from any store that fancy. The blown glass earrings she bought me from the Laguna Arts Show we went to together. The silver hamsa necklace a friend gave me in college, on a silver chain another friend--someone I helled, actually--gave me in college. Small things, none of which would end world hunger or anything, but each of which is just so, so precious to me, a story, a memory, a piece of my soul
Sometimes bad stuff happens. I wish I could say this was the first time I'd left something I loved on a train or bus or taxi. I wish I could say it was the last time. But most times when it happens, that's the end. There's nothing else redeeming about the day or the time, it's just lost--a sort of sacrifice to the universe, a sign that you clearly have too much stuff and some of it needs to find a new home.
But it's nice to know that, even all these years after college, Hell Weeks still end with flowers.
"I must have flowers, always and always."
~Claude Monet
