I was in a nearly empty bar with my empty wallet, in August heat somewhere in the South. I knew it wasn't the best idea to leave it sitting out for a while, but there was nobody else within 10 seats and I'd been watching it the whole time. The fraying leather case was still there, but everything inside had disappeared. Was I being filmed? Was Uri Geller a fan of happy hour?
Must have been some sleight of hand, and now there was nothing I could do. I began running through the list in my head: driver's license, credit card, Safeway card, REI card, Social Security card (why was I carrying that?), a card for the movie place near my house. But not my debit card.
Hey! I started a tab, so it's behind the bar. Sweet. One less call to make before I wake up.
That's what happens when you read this and this right before bed.
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2 comments:
How odd. I dreamt last night that I lost my wallet too, only mine was in my bag poolside, where I'd left it while I competed in an American Idol/ Great Race/ Survivor kind of competition. The swimming portion of said competition involved being the first to place a small floating disk representing Pakistan between two larger floating disks representing Iran and Iraq. I won the million, but I was pretty bummed that my wallet got taken.
What did I read before bed?
And what does it all mean?
Who needs a wallet when you've got the chops for a reality-show triathlon with an aquatic foreign policy element? I'm pretty sure it means you're hard-core. Also those are some good drugs.
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