Hello sweet Friday. Man did I get to work late today -- 11:45, oops! I fell asleep on my sofa and woke up at 4am. I went back to bed, had some crazy dream about writing a sketch for SNL and the next thing I knew, it was 10:15. It happens to the best of us. I have a ticket to Star Wars tonight. I so don't want to go. I like Star Wars but I get confused with all the "new" characters. "Wait, that's Darth Vader?" Plus, it's not until 10:30, that's a lot of down time between when I get out of work and the movie. I don't know. There was some controversy with my "Bull" story from yesterday. My brother and my Mom, remember the story like this: Bob was called Bullwinkle during summer band camp. We were in the marching band and the ability to dance during drum breaks were required. Bob had somewhat of a rhythm problem and couldn't get the hang of some dances as fast as the others. So in frustration, the band director called, "Come on! You dance like a damn Bullwinkle!"
That is true, that did happen. However, I was called Bullwinkle first, during a practice with all the horns in the barn. I was there, I remember it like it was yesterday. I've been telling the same story for years. I just want to get the record straight. OK, I started this last week and people seemed to enjoy it. So, I'm going to keep writing my novel, The Wallet, every Friday until it's finished. I hope you enjoy this week's addition.
"The Wallet"
You wouldn't know it to look at me but I'm a nonconformist. OK, I voted Republican in the last three elections, I don't carry credit card debt and I'm always early for work. I consider myself a rebel for one reason; I carry my wallet in my back pocket. I know, It's been preached to me for years, "Keep your wallet in your front pocket, pick pockets are everywhere." Especially in this city! It seems like such a small detail but It makes me different. I walk a little taller knowing that I'm going against the grain on this one.
I was sitting on the Subway, making the always horrible commute home. The dregs of humanity they let through the gates is amazing. Just the smell alone is enough to curl your toes. I was on the local so we were making all the stops, lucky me. The Subway stopped at the 42nd street station and a woman got on. She looked to be about 44, she's seen better days. She was clearly drunk as she stumbled over and of course, sat next to me. The air was thick with Vodka and Orange Juice as she mumbled this, "Paul Theroux is my favorite author." "What?", I said. Her tone became louder and more irritated. "I SAID, PAUL THEROUX is my favorite author! I can spot a book worm a mile away and you'd like his work." Everybody's looking at her. I have one rule when dealing with unstable people in enclosed spaces, agree with everything.
We were approaching the 14th Street station, my stop. In the middle of agreeing with her ramblings I had to cut her short and say, "OK, this is my stop, good luck." As I quickly got up, she shoved this Paul Theroux book in my hands and in a calm, almost sober voice simply said, "Take this."
I walked out the door, the doors closed. I touched my back pocket (a nervous habit of mine) and my wallet was gone. The train started moving and I ran to the window and saw my wallet on the seat. It wasn't pick pockets, in my attempts to squirm away from this woman, It must have fallen out. The train wouldn't stop. "F**K!!!!!!!!!!!!"
I ran to the token booth to tell my dilemma to the token booth person. I'm thinking maybe they can call ahead to the next stop and help me out. Living in the city for the past 15 years I instantly recognized the glazed over eyes with that all too familiar expression, "what do you want me to do about it?" Silly me, I forgot that people don't care anymore. I ran above ground, hailed a cab, quickly explained what I'm trying to do and told him to take me to the Spring Street station, two subway stops ahead. This was my kind of cab ride. He was dodging cars and pedestrians like a professional race car driver.
The wheels screeched to a halt, I leaped out, ran down the stairs, jumped over the turn stall just in time to see the lights of the E train -- leaving the station, Damn! I had everything in that wallet. I gave my last five bucks to the cabbie, it looks like I'm walking back to 14th Street. After calling my bank and the credit card companies I took a shower to tried to wash the day away.
Halfway through the shower I remembered what the woman on the subway said to me, "PAUL THEROUX is my favorite author!" And that just clicked in my head! The book! I poured myself a drink and brought the book over to my chair. Hotel Honolulu, by Paul Theroux. I do a quick skim of the book and it was underlined and circled throughout. The circled words were checked, almost like she was looking them up. The underlined sentences looked to have no significance at all.
I turned the pages until I got to the end. I pulled back the book jacket and there, in the bottom right hand corner, written in pencil: Dawn Manning, 718-555-2649. Is this the girl from the subway? It's a Brooklyn number and the E does end up in Brooklyn. Still, I don't need the wallet anymore, I canceled all my cards. And who's to say that she even has it? Do I really want to make contact with this woman? Friday night, no girlfriend, zero messages on my machine. I picked up the phone and started dialing.
Hmmmmm, I wonder what will happen next?! That's it! Have a great weekend. God Bless America.
That is true, that did happen. However, I was called Bullwinkle first, during a practice with all the horns in the barn. I was there, I remember it like it was yesterday. I've been telling the same story for years. I just want to get the record straight. OK, I started this last week and people seemed to enjoy it. So, I'm going to keep writing my novel, The Wallet, every Friday until it's finished. I hope you enjoy this week's addition.
"The Wallet"
You wouldn't know it to look at me but I'm a nonconformist. OK, I voted Republican in the last three elections, I don't carry credit card debt and I'm always early for work. I consider myself a rebel for one reason; I carry my wallet in my back pocket. I know, It's been preached to me for years, "Keep your wallet in your front pocket, pick pockets are everywhere." Especially in this city! It seems like such a small detail but It makes me different. I walk a little taller knowing that I'm going against the grain on this one.
I was sitting on the Subway, making the always horrible commute home. The dregs of humanity they let through the gates is amazing. Just the smell alone is enough to curl your toes. I was on the local so we were making all the stops, lucky me. The Subway stopped at the 42nd street station and a woman got on. She looked to be about 44, she's seen better days. She was clearly drunk as she stumbled over and of course, sat next to me. The air was thick with Vodka and Orange Juice as she mumbled this, "Paul Theroux is my favorite author." "What?", I said. Her tone became louder and more irritated. "I SAID, PAUL THEROUX is my favorite author! I can spot a book worm a mile away and you'd like his work." Everybody's looking at her. I have one rule when dealing with unstable people in enclosed spaces, agree with everything.
We were approaching the 14th Street station, my stop. In the middle of agreeing with her ramblings I had to cut her short and say, "OK, this is my stop, good luck." As I quickly got up, she shoved this Paul Theroux book in my hands and in a calm, almost sober voice simply said, "Take this."
I walked out the door, the doors closed. I touched my back pocket (a nervous habit of mine) and my wallet was gone. The train started moving and I ran to the window and saw my wallet on the seat. It wasn't pick pockets, in my attempts to squirm away from this woman, It must have fallen out. The train wouldn't stop. "F**K!!!!!!!!!!!!"
I ran to the token booth to tell my dilemma to the token booth person. I'm thinking maybe they can call ahead to the next stop and help me out. Living in the city for the past 15 years I instantly recognized the glazed over eyes with that all too familiar expression, "what do you want me to do about it?" Silly me, I forgot that people don't care anymore. I ran above ground, hailed a cab, quickly explained what I'm trying to do and told him to take me to the Spring Street station, two subway stops ahead. This was my kind of cab ride. He was dodging cars and pedestrians like a professional race car driver.
The wheels screeched to a halt, I leaped out, ran down the stairs, jumped over the turn stall just in time to see the lights of the E train -- leaving the station, Damn! I had everything in that wallet. I gave my last five bucks to the cabbie, it looks like I'm walking back to 14th Street. After calling my bank and the credit card companies I took a shower to tried to wash the day away.
Halfway through the shower I remembered what the woman on the subway said to me, "PAUL THEROUX is my favorite author!" And that just clicked in my head! The book! I poured myself a drink and brought the book over to my chair. Hotel Honolulu, by Paul Theroux. I do a quick skim of the book and it was underlined and circled throughout. The circled words were checked, almost like she was looking them up. The underlined sentences looked to have no significance at all.
I turned the pages until I got to the end. I pulled back the book jacket and there, in the bottom right hand corner, written in pencil: Dawn Manning, 718-555-2649. Is this the girl from the subway? It's a Brooklyn number and the E does end up in Brooklyn. Still, I don't need the wallet anymore, I canceled all my cards. And who's to say that she even has it? Do I really want to make contact with this woman? Friday night, no girlfriend, zero messages on my machine. I picked up the phone and started dialing.
Hmmmmm, I wonder what will happen next?! That's it! Have a great weekend. God Bless America.
About the Author. BOB BORDEN grew up in Steubenville, Ohio. This is his first novel. He currently lives in Hoboken, New Jersey with two cats.
