It’s been a while since I’ve written in the ol’ blog, but a fun and neat thing happened last weekend that I think you might want to hear about.
I was in New York visiting my girlfriend, and we had gone to the really fun comedy show Too Cool For School in Greenpoint and stayed for karaoke. By the time we were leaving the G Train had stopped running. (G Train refers to an actual subway line, and not a nickname I am trying to give myself.) We came back above ground to look for a cab to get back home, and just as we were getting into one, I noticed a wad of bills on the ground. I picked it up, and there was a lot more money than it had seemed like, along with several credit cards and an ID.
Just then, a big Southie looking dude with a beard came up to us.
“Hey! I was going to get into that cab!” he said.
“Nope!” said girlfriend, sliding into the taxi.
“Awww, come one. Then at least give me that money!”
“No,” I said. “We’re going to return it.”
“What about just giving me like twenty dollars?”
I closed the cab door behind me. As the taxi took us towards Union Square, we Googled and Facebooked, but we couldn’t find anything definitive about Michael P, the wallet’s owner. Well, it wasn’t a wallet so much as a manuscript paperclip with an unreasonable amount of cash inside it. We vowed to get up early and complete our sleuthing. It was a pretty exciting prospect.
The next morning, a couple of well placed searches on whitepages.com got us our man’s parents’ phone number. We got in touch with his mother, who put us in touch with the guy himself. He was very gracious and since he was at work, he sent his girlfriend to retrieve the wallet.
When she (Michelle, of Mike and Michelle, which is very cute) arrived, she was also super gracious. She offered us a reward, which we refused many times, even allowing the money to fall on the ground.
“Come on,” she said. “I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if you didn’t take something. Go out for a nice dinner. You’ve earned it.” Finally, we relented.
As we walked upstairs to my girlfriend’s apartment, I noticed that Michelle had peeled off more bills than I had originally thought. She’d given us a one hundred dollar reward.
“We can’t keep it all,” my girlfriend said. “Let’s donate some.”
Since she had just interviewed a Hurricane Katrina refugee for her blog, we decided to donate fifty dollars to Children’s Hospital New Orleans. The remaining fifty dollars we used to take my friend Gorman out for pizza, buy wine for a dinner party, and drink coffee. Suck it, Southie guy. Victory, us.
One for the good guys!